


When Words Fail

by sociallyawkward_fics



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Parents, Actor!Roman, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Artist!Virgil, Author!Virgil, Breast cancer, Bullying, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It's gonna get worse before it gets better, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, References to Depression, References to bullying, Self-Harm, Talk of Hospitals, cancer mention, character with cancer, in the form of scratching arms and picking at scabs, talk of illness, thoughts of self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-02-07 20:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sociallyawkward_fics/pseuds/sociallyawkward_fics
Summary: Soulmates. Everyone has one. Virgil just happens to be a little... unique. So what will happen when he discovers he has not one, but three soulmates?





	1. The "Talk"

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, it's been a while! I usually NEVER post ANY fanfic until I've actually written it all out, but I've been feeling myself really start to lack in motivation so I needed what little feedback that posting the fic would give me lol. So, let me know what you think! I hope you like it! I feed off your feedback and it'll help the next chapter come faster!  
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Anxiety Attack, Abandonment

Virgil knew what it was before the lesson in school. Most kids did. He had asked his parents about it in a panic the first time it happened, marker marks appearing on his skin without his doing accompanied by a strange, tingly feeling.

His mother had simply smiled, telling him to ask his father and turning back to her phone call. His father gave an exasperated sigh before sitting down and explaining.

It was called a “soulmate.” Someone whose soul was tightly linked to his own, a bond that could not be broken except through death. Because soulmates were so hard to find, the universe had taken pity and given them a way.

Any mark you made on your skin, whether it be with ink, paints, or something else, would also appear on your soulmate’s skin. That way, if you ever met them, you could know they were your soulmate through those marks.

Virgil’s father explained all of this to him in a bored tone of voice before shooing him away, claiming he had work.

Virgil was fascinated. Someone out there was destined just for him. Someone out there would love him no matter what, just like his parents loved each other. He was too scared to write to them on his skin (he couldn’t write very well anyway, being so young), but he knew they were there. And he couldn’t wait to meet them.

 

* * *

 

They were finally formally taught about soulmates when they were eight. It was a nationwide event, like the way they did those big tests for the highschool kids, so all the kids learned about soulmates at the same time and didn’t freak out when writing appeared on their skin. It was a generally ignored fact that most kids already knew about soulmates at this point.

Virgil followed his teacher with the rest of his class to the cafeteria. The principal stood on the small stage at the front of the large room, usually used for the sub-par performances of various elementary classes. The weird folding lunch tables that everyone hated had been folded in such a way that they now appeared as benches.

Virgil was glad his teacher had trouble rounding up the class to get to the assembly, it meant that he got to sit closer to the back. Less of a chance of being noticed.

Eventually the principal called for quiet and all the third grade classes fell into whispering instead.

“C’mon, kids! Listen up,” a teacher called from the sidelines. “This is important stuff!”

The cafeteria only got a bit quieter after that, but the principal deemed it acceptable enough to start her lecture.

“Alright, guys, I know a lot of you already know this stuff from your parents, but we still gotta talk about it, okay? How many of you have heard of soulmates?”

Almost every hand in the room shot high in the air.

“Great!” The principal said, moving closer to the front of the stage. “If you didn’t raise your hand, your soulmate is a very special person meant just for you! Now, a lot of people think it’s gonna be really, really hard to find their soulmate, but there’s a special way you can talk to them and recognize them if you ever meet. How many of you have ever drawn on your skin?”

Guilty hands slowly made their way into the air. The principal smiled knowingly.

“It’s okay,” she said, a bit of laughter in her voice, “most of us have, right? Even if it wasn’t on purpose, The reason us grown-ups have always told you not to is because anything you write on your skin will appear on your soulmate’s skin too! We didn’t want you guys to scare your soulmates off before they knew! Now, how many of you have ever had your soulmate write on their skin before, seen it on yours?”

Hands shot in the air again. Virgil wished she’d stop dragging this out. He  _ knew _ all of this already. He slouched down further in his seat and crossed his arms.

“It tingles a little, right? It feels kind of funny. And sometimes, if you two talk enough, you can even feel your soulmate’s emotions when they write to you! And they can feels yours!”

Virgil perked up a bit. This, at least, was something new.

“This can only happen if your soulbond is really,  _ really _ strong, though! You have to be  _ really _ good friends!”

The principal gave the students a big, plastic-seeming smile. Virgil grimaced.

“Are there any questions you guys have about soulmates?”

A few hands shot up. The principal pointed at one, a smaller girl in the front.

“Am-am I gonna  _ marry _ my soulmate?”

The principal smiled again. “Yes, you will all marry your soulmate.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose a little bit. That sounded a bit too happy and perfect to be true. Kind of like that Cinderella movie his mom made him watch with his baby cousin that one time.

The principal picked on another hand, a kid in Virgil’s own class a few seats down.

“What if I don’t have a soulmate?”

The principal frowned. “Well,  _ everyone _ has a soulmate, silly!”

For some reason, those words triggered an eruption from the eight-year-olds. Questions started flying out of mouths without permission from the principal or teachers.

“What if I never meet my soulmate?”

“How many soulmates can I have?”

“Can I get another soulmate?”

“What if my soulmate  _ dies _ ?"

The principal got a slightly panicked look on her face at all the noise.

“All right!” She shouted over the swarm of third graders. “Your teachers and parents can answer any other questions you may have, go ahead and follow your teachers back to your classes!”

Virgil’s class followed the teacher back as rambunctiously as possible with him trailing grumpily behind. When they got back to their room, everyone was talking loudly and excitedly about their soulmates. The teacher tried to regain control, but soon realized it was futile and settled for simply supervising the overexcited children to make sure nothing got too out of hand. The school day was nearly over anyway.

All of Virgil’s classmates eventually decided they were going to start writing to their soulmates immediately so they could find them sooner.

Virgil wasn’t certain that that was how it worked and simply ignored them all. He grabbed a book off the bookshelf the teacher let them have free reign of and started reading quietly at his desk. The teacher caught his eye and smiled. He had always been appreciative of Virgil’s quiet nature in a class full of such loud kids.

Virgil continued to read until he felt that tell-tale tingle on his right arm. It was soft, gentle, slightly ticklish.

In blue ink on his forearm appeared,  _ Hello!!  _

It wasn’t the usual navy blue ink his parents used to sign their names on his homework forms either, it was a lighter blue. Sky blue. Baby blue. And it  _ sparkled _ .

His soulmate wrote using  _ glitter pens _ . Virgil wrinkled his nose. He hated the things.

The tingling started up again and Virgil thought his soulmate was trying to get his attention again since he hadn’t replied, but it felt different this time. While not painful, the writing wasn’t as soft this time. It felt…  _ louder _ somehow, even though written words couldn’t exactly be “loud.” 

_ Greetings! _ Appeared on his arm below the previous writing. It was a completely different kind of handwriting, and written in red pen instead of blue. It was, once again, glittery.

Virgil had… two soulmates? 

Before he could work up the courage to ask his teacher to explain, another tingling sensation started directly below the other two. It was much more clinical this time, though not unpleasant.

_ Salutations. _ Written in black ink, directly below the red. Virgil took a moment to figure out what the word meant, but then he remembered it from that book his uncle gave him last Christmas, Charlotte’s Web. This handwriting was arguably the neatest out of all of theirs.

Virgil had  _ three _ soulmates? He waited a few seconds to make sure there wasn’t another.

He hesitated for another few moments after that. Should  _ he _ greet them as well? He probably should, they had all done so, after all. 

Virgil grabbed his favorite purple marker from his backpack and started writing before he could talk himself out of it.

_ Hey _

None of them wrote back for a few minutes.

The loud red one wrote next.  _ How is it possible to have three soulmates? _ Appeared to the side of the greetings, written smaller to fit.  _ Everyone else just has one _ .

The clinical one wrote again.  _ I’m not sure, I’ll try to figure it out. _

The first one wrote.  _  Well I think it’s great! More to love! _

Virgil couldn’t think of a reply.

While he was staring at his arm, a few of Virgil’s classmates walked up. Virgil didn’t notice, too lost in his own head. One of them grabbed his arm and yanked it towards them.

“You have  _ three _ soulmates?” The boy asked.

“No fair, I want three!” The girl next to him cried.

They were being loud enough that the other students all went quiet to hear what was going on. The teacher started making his way over.

The boy sneered. “No, you don’t. He probably has three because he’s not good enough for them. The universe had to give them more to make up for it, even it out.”

The girl looked disgusted. “Oh.”

All of Virgil’s classmates held similar expressions. Sure, Virgil had never been well-liked, but he had never been outright hated. Not until this moment.

The teacher looked like he had no clue what was going on or what to do. Virgil didn’t blame him. He didn’t either.

 

* * *

 

From that day forward Virgil was shunned and ridiculed by everyone who knew about his soulmates, and word spread fast. He had taken to wearing long-sleeve shirts or hoodies and completely stopped wearing shorts in order to hide the soulmarkings.

His parents weren’t too pleased when he finally told them either. They immediately took him to a doctor, certain there had to be some mistake. The doctor tried to explain to them that, while rare, having more than one soulmate was completely safe and healthy, but his parents refused to believe it. He told his soulmates as much.

He broke out the gel pens his parents had bought him shortly before the soulmate assembly. They were specifically designed to write well on skin, meant specifically for soulmarkings. He chose the purple.

While he hadn’t spoken much to them since the first time two weeks ago (at all, really), his soulmates did. Whether it was some silly joke, lines for a play, notes from school, or even just little doodles exchanged throughout the day, they all continued to communicate excitedly while Virgil sat silent. They sometimes asked about him. Little, “ _ Purple, you okay? _ ”s since they decided to stick with the colors they first used, but he was always too afraid to respond.

He was almost too afraid to write to them now. Virgil slid up the leg of his pajama pants (for his arms were covered in blue, red, and black doodles) and shakily brought the purple pen to his skin.

_ The doctor say’s we’re rare but okay _

It was a few minutes before a response came. It was the smart soulmate, the black ink and clinical touch.  _ Yes. While rare, we are perfectly healthy. Are you surprised? _

Virgil hesitated to respond.  _ No but my mom and dad don’t like it _

This time the gentle, caring one wrote back.  _ Well that’s not very nice! I’m sorry! _

The loud one replied before Virgil could.  _ I think it’s cool there’s four of us! Like Blue said, more to love! _

Virgil picked up the pen again.  _ The kids at school don’t think so. _

He felt tingles from all three, but he rolled his pant leg back down and tried to ignore it. He didn’t feel much like talking anymore.

There wasn’t enough leg space left anyway.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks after the doctor’s appointment, Virgil woke up to the house feeling somewhat off. He had gotten used to the tense air ever since his parents started trying to “cure” his soulmate issue, but something was even more different this morning. 

He shrugged off the feeling and got ready for school, smiling slightly at his soulmarks before he got dressed and covered them up again. His soulmates were pretty chatty people. He’d come up with nicknames for each of them now, too. 

The gentle and loving light blue ink was his Heart. They were kind and caring, always asking how the others were doing. Even though the bond wasn’t strong enough to feel emotions yet, everything they wrote was full of love, Virgil could tell.

The loud yet kind red one was his Royal. They always made jokes about being royalty and loved fantasy genre, from what Virgil had gathered. They were also really into theatre and they were going to play the part of royalty in their school play soon.

And last but certainly not least, the smartest of them all, in black ink, was his Brain. They were  _ crazy _ smart. They probably didn’t even need to study. They always had the right answer for everything, and yet somehow they never made the others feel stupid for not knowing.

They sometimes asked about him, especially his Heart, but he was always too scared to write back.

His parents drove him to school that day in a tense silence. That wasn’t unusual these days. What was unusual is that they asked him to take the school bus home.

Virgil furrowed his brow. “Why?”

His father seemed frustrated. “Because your mother and I have a meeting, that’s why! Now get out of the car, go to school.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad. I love you.”

They didn’t say it back. Virgil tried not to let it hurt him. They were probably just stressed out about their meeting.

So Virgil went through his school day, enduring the teasing and bullying of his schoolmates and letting the gentle tingles of his soulmates soothe his frayed nerves.

Crumpled up papers and trash were thrown at him on the school bus. Words that he should never repeat were shouted at him. Virgil stared out the window and tried to ignore it all. He failed.

He got home and his parents weren’t there. It was fine, they did have a meeting. Virgil went to unlock the front door, but found it already unlocked. He hesitated. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t right at all.

He made his way inside slowly, carefully, looking for danger in all corners. He eventually made his way into the dining room and saw something out of place. A bright white sheet of paper on the dark wood of the dining table, cleared of any other objects. He picked up the note with shaking hands.

 

_ Virgil, _

_ We decided it’s best if we separate for now. We just can’t have someone with your condition under our roof. It’s unnatural, it’s not right, and we can’t fix this. It’s better off for everyone this way. We aren’t equipped to deal with this. Go to the neighbors. They’ll help you call the police. We already disconnected the house phone. We won’t be coming back. _

_ -Mom & Dad _

 

Tears streaked down Virgil’s face. His hands shook violently.

This would be the first time this happened. It certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Virgil sank to the ground, trembling so much that he dropped the note. Sobs wracked his body. He rocked back and forth on the tile floor of the dining room. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

Was he dying? Is this what dying felt like? It must be. There was no other explanation. The realization only made it harder to breathe. Made the tears come faster.

Should he tell his soulmates? He had no pen, no marker. He couldn’t get himself off the ground. 

Oh gosh, he was going to die and his soulmates would never know.

Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh. This was the end.

Maybe it was better off this way? He was a burden, after all. A freak. Unnatural. Unlovable even to his parents. Maybe his death would be a service to them.

Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days. It took a long time for Virgil to be able to get up. Long after the sobbing and shaking stopped (the thoughts stayed), he pulled himself off the ground, exhausted.

He trudged up the stairs, packing his gel pens and all the clothes he could fit into his backpack. He didn’t take anything else, knowing it would be lost or stolen somewhere along the way anyway. Virgil took one last long look around his room. He felt like he was going to cry again, but he held it in. He had to be strong. He had to be a big kid. He was alone now.

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he left his old room, his old home, and made his way next door. They would call someone for him.

They would send him where he belonged. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> -mentions of abusive parenting/foster system  
> -mentions of bullying  
> -suicidal thoughts?  
> -thoughts of self-harm  
> -mentions of an anxiety/panic attack  
> -a homophobic slur  
> -self harm (in the form of scratching at arms/picking scabs)  
> -if there's anything I missed/you would want a trigger warning about please let me know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you all so much for the love on this fic! I really appreciate every single comment and kudos! (And I forgot to do this last chapter, so:) AND THANK YOU TO MY AMAZING BETA WHO PUTS UP WITH MY NAGGING AND ANXIETY ABOUT POSTING THINGS!!

For years Virgil bounced between foster homes, never staying in one place long. It seemed like his soulmate issue was a leading factor in this, people found it strange. Unnatural. Another issue was his poor attitude, but Virgil didn’t understand why they expected him to be an angel after everything they’d put him through.

He also hadn’t spoken to his soulmates in this time. They wrote to each other and they frequently asked after him, asking where “their Purple” was. As time went on, they asked after him less and less, he could almost believe they’d forgotten him, but they would inevitably ask again.

At some point around the time Virgil was 12, they exchanged names. Well, not exactly “names,” but they came pretty close.

It happened during his stay with one of his nicer foster families, during dinner. His upper arm had been tingling sporadically for the past few minutes, but Virgil had been ignoring it. His soulmates made people uncomfortable. 

Unfortunately, Virgil had completely forgotten he’d rolled up his hoodie sleeves to his elbows when he’d been helping cook. In fancy red script,  _ Ro _ made it’s way across his forearm.

The family stared at him for a few moments before the father cleared his throat, “Why not cover that up, son.”

A sour taste filled Virgil’s mouth at the s-word, but he yanked his hoodie sleeves down nevertheless. He felt his other two soulmates respond before they all fell silent.

Later that night, he checked his arms, trying to figure out what on earth “Ro” meant.

His Heart had started it.  _ What if we just exchanged a FEW letters of our names? So we can find eachother easier. _

His Brain seemed to have been the first to reply.  _ Each other*. And I suppose that is acceptable. _

That took up all the upper arm space (they were pre-pubescent, no one had that much arm at that age). 

Next was his Royal writing  _ Ro _ on their forearm.

His Heart responded with  _ Pat _ , his Brain with  _ Lo _ .

Virgil didn’t see the need to reply. They probably already thought he was dead, anyway. He probably should be, too. It was better off this way, they didn’t need him.

A gentle tingle on his wrist. Pat, his Heart.  _ Purple? _

He put his hoodie back on. Zipped it up and pulled the sleeves over his hands. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut tight as he laid back in his bed, trying to pretend the burning behind his eyes wasn’t there.

It was barely a year later when Virgil got his next shock. 

He was sauntering through the mall with his friends (read: assholes he hung out with just to spite his new and abusive foster parents) when he felt Pat’s telltale tingle on his arm. He planned to ignore it as usual, his “friends” didn’t know about his soulmate issue and they hopefully never would.

Something was wrong, though. 

Along with Pat’s gentle tingle came a flow of  _ something _ that wasn’t his. It was barely noticeable, but it still sent Virgil into a panic. He shouldn’t be feeling that, he had made no effort to strengthen the soulbond.

Completely forgetting his surroundings, Virgil sat down on the nearest bench and shoved up his hoodie sleeve. It was a simple message.

_ I’m concentrating really hard, can you feel this? _

Ro replied next, before Virgil could roll down his sleeve.  _ Yes!! Do you feel this?? _

Ro’s flood of emotions was slightly stronger and more distinct. Intense concentration and a sense of pride directed both at themselves and Pat.

_ Yes!!! _ Pat’s emotions were stronger this time, too. An intense joy directed at all three of them.

Virgil furrowed his brow. He hadn’t written in  _ years _

_ Well that was disconcerting. _ Lo. Curious and inquisitive, but not in a bad way.

_ Good job, Lo!! _ Pat, proud and even overjoyed (and was that a hint of sadness in there? Directed at Virgil? No, it couldn’t be…).

“Dude, what the fuck?!”

Virgil’s companions had caught up with him and were now staring intensely at his soulmarks.

One of them laughed. “What a fucking freak!”

The others joined in.

Virgil tried to stand so he could leave before he had an attack but he was roughly shoved back into the metal bench.

“God, get lost, fag!” Said the one who pushed him.

The group laughed and walked away. Virgil bolted to the bathroom and broke down as quietly as he could in the handicap stall.

When he finally calmed down, he only had one numb thought.  _ I’m not even fucking gay _ .

 

\-------------

 

The others grew in their soulbond day after day until they no longer had to even concentrate to send their emotions through, it simply flowed naturally between them. 

After a few years, Virgil almost never had any room left on his skin anymore to write, even if he wanted to. Questions toward him were few and far inbetween, they had almost vanished altogether.

And, though he would never, ever be capable of hating his soulmates, Virgil had grown to resent them.

Wasn’t it their fault no foster families wanted to keep him? Wasn’t it their fault he had no friends? Wasn’t it their fault he was constantly teased.

Wasn’t it their fault his parents left him.

( _ No _ , his thoughts hissed.  _ It’s yours. You destroy everything. _ )

Rationally, Virgil knew his parents had never been the best people. He was old enough to recognize and acknowledge that. Even with that knowledge it was hard not to blame his soulmates. Even harder not to blame himself.

Truly, it wasn’t their fault, all of his issues. They didn’t choose to get saddled with the mess that he was. He had crippling anxiety, probably had depression, he definitely had a bad attitude after being treated the way he had been treated for so many years. It was no wonder no one wanted him.

It wasn’t their fault, though. He could never truly blame them. He could lie to himself and say he did, but he couldn’t blame them, not really.

But that didn’t mean he could stop himself from feeling some sort of resentment toward them after everything he’d suffered through because of their words on his skin.

Virgil stumbled through the door to his room and slammed in behind him, leaning against it and sliding to the ground. He held his breath and closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling.

They fell anyway.

It had been another shit day. The bullying was worse than normal (there were doodles on his fingers from his soulmates that he couldn’t hide). Another set of beatings from the latest foster family (his grade in science had dropped to an 89%, his soulmarks were showing, he was breathing too loud, you name it and they beat him for it).

He’d taken the abuse from schoolmates in silence for so long. He’d taken the beatings from foster families, physical and emotional, for years without a word against them.

The breakdown had been building for years. He just needed this one last bad day to break the dam.

_ I always thought I wouldn’t make it to 18 _ , Virgil thought through his tears.

Angry sobs wracked his thin frame and the threw his hoodie off to scratch as his arms. To pick at the scabs littered around his soulmarks from doing this too often. But he couldn’t stop. The pain helped ground him.

He deserved this. He deserved every bit of this. All he ever did was cause others trouble, it was only fair that he felt this kind of pain in return. He was such a burden.

Virgil dug his nails harder into his arms. Revelled in the pain.

He’d seen other people with cuts.  _ Real _ cuts. Not this weak version of his. He’d heard about it online, too. He wasn’t stupid or naive. He knew what all this meant. He was 17 for crying out loud. 

He deserved worse pain than just these small, weak scratches. 

It occurred to Virgil that he didn’t have anything very sharp in his room. Nothing he could use for  _ that _ .

_ What an attention whore _ , his brain screamed at him. _ There are people out there with actual problems. You think digging into your skin with a blade will solve your petty issues? Pathetic. Weak. You just want the attention the scars will give you. _

Virgil’s sobs went from hysterical to violent. He should just die already. It would be easier for everyone. He would be doing the world a favor. He wanted to die. He deserved to die.

Virgil stood up, stumbling through his room, violently stripping off his skinny jeans along the way. He needed space to breath. He paced for a few moments before ripping through his backpack and grabbing a pen - the red one. 

Like blood.

He barely even thought about what he was doing. Was he even thinking about what he was doing? 

Virgil brought the pain down on his thigh, scribbling as hard as he dared. He didn’t dare try to break skin. Not with ink (he wasn’t  _ that _ stupid) and not in his room. He wouldn’t be able to sneak past the abusive shits to clean up his wounds afterwards.

He let out everything he’d felt building up over the past few years.

The anger at his parents. They were shit parents, always had been. Dismissive. Indifferent. Borderline negligent. He’d taken care of himself from a young age because they didn’t want to. They weren’t cut out for a kid. He didn’t deserve what they did to him ( _ or maybe he did _ ). His soulmate situation shouldn’t have led to abandonment. They should have supported him, helped him, told him they loved him. He supposed it was his fault for trusting them in the first place.

The hurt from his classmates. Ever since that day in the third grade, the bullying had never stopped. There were brief pauses, but his secret always got out and the pain started again. Just because he was  _ different _ . He was such a fuckup, too. He just took it without a word. He was so damn weak he couldn’t even stand up for himself. He deserved it at this point.

The abuse of the foster families. He wanted to try and blame the soulmate issue again (though he couldn’t really blame them), but he knew it was his own fault. Sure, sometimes the soulmate thing was part of the issue, but it was his own bad attitude that got him in trouble. He was too loud. He was too quiet. He was too anxious. He didn’t do the dishes. He didn’t make the bed the  _ exact _ way they wanted. In the end it was all his fault. It was always his fault. He was the fuckup, after all.

A little resentment towards his soulmates bled out. They had great lives, they were always happy, they never seemed to struggle with the issues Virgil did. They had such a large capacity for love. And he didn’t.

The resentment shifted towards himself. They deserved better than him. Someone who could laugh and be happy like them. Someone who actually wrote to them and didn’t cut them out. Someone who could love them the way they deserved. He was worthless.

Worthless.

_ Worthless! _

**_WORTHLESS!!_ **

He threw the pen across the room as hard as he could. He wanted to cry, but he had no tears left.

He wished he could just die already.

That’s when Virgil felt the telltale tingle on his arm. Times three.  _ All _ of them.

Shit.

_ Shit shit shit shit. _

Virgil had forgotten about that. How the fuck had he forgotten about that? Fuck, they hated him. They all hated him now, how could they not? He knew it.

But the emotions they sent through with their words… that didn’t add up. Could you lie through a soulbond? Virgil didn’t think so. You couldn’t fake a feeling, not in your true heart, and that’s what the bond gave you. What they felt in their true heart.

From Pat it was warm reassurance, love and kindness that smoothed down the edges of his frayed heart.

From Ro it was white hot fury -- but not at him. It was directed toward all the people thought about during his episode, stilling his shaking hands.

From Lo, it was reassurance, just like Pat, but calmer. There was some sort of emotion he couldn’t exactly identify, directed at his spiraling thoughts. It somehow calmed his racing mind, if even for just a moment.

Virgil took another moment to compose himself before carefully sitting up, drying his tears, and glancing at his arms.

Pat’s looping letters,  _ Hey it’s gonna be okay, we’re here for you. _

Ro’s regal calligraphy,  _ Purple let us help, no one should have to go through this alone. _

Lo’s neat-yet-somehow-sloppy scrawl,  _ Please let us in. We can help. I can help. _

Virgil panicked for a moment. His emotions shouldn’t have even gotten through. What happened to all this “strong bond” nonsense? He’d made no effort to strengthen it on his side, so why were his emotions getting through to them? Sure, he got theirs, but they’d made an effort. He  _ hadn’t _ .

He was hesitant to write on himself again, but he gingerly picked up the purple pen he always kept on his bedside table.

_ how  _ was all he wrote. If his feelings were truly getting through, they’d understand.

He felt Lo writing on their calf and patiently waited as a whole paragraph appeared in the smallest scrawl Lo could probably manage at the awkward angle.

_ Presumably, you have felt our emotions. Perhaps for years. We worked hard to strengthen the bond with each other so it would require less effort. If you felt this previously, this means your bond was somehow strengthening without the writing, though I’m not sure how this happened. That, and your emotions were particularly strong during the outburst, which is how we had forced the emotions through when we were just trying to strengthen the bond. _

Virgil was astounded that Lo had fit that much just on their calf.

Pat, on their arm,  _ Aww! Lo’s so smart!  _ Virgil could feel their pride radiating in his core. 

Virgil looked back at the comforting words on his arm. He had shut them out, refused to write to them, ignored their calls for him. Why did they care so much?

_ why  _

Virgil’s hands were shaking again. He couldn’t write much more than that.

He felt a wash of confidence come over him, with a bit of loving warmth. Ro. They were always confident.

_ Because we care, Emo Nightmare. _

Shockingly, the teasing nickname (he felt the humor, he could tell it wasn’t malicious) brought a small smile to Virgil’s lips. Had he been in a better mood, he may have even laughed. Then the gravity of Ro’s words hit him.

_ Why. _

More forceful this time, he was shoving his feelings through the bond as hard as he could, thinking the emotions at them. He didn’t like being this intimate with them (because let’s face it, he was just gonna fuck up and shut them out again after this), but he needed them to understand. Virgil had hurt them. He’d probably fuck up again.

Another wave of emotion that wasn’t his, along with the tingling. Virgil had never felt surrounded by such love in his entire life. And it was all directed at  _ him _ . He almost started crying again.

_ You may have shut us out, but you were scared and hurt. It’s okay. _

Pat’s words really did make him start crying again; however, for once, they were tears of joy instead of sorrow.

Ro started up before Virgil could reply.  _ We were worried, yes, but never angry. _

It flowed with the same intense emotions as Pat.

Then it was Lo’s turn. Lo, who was always calm and collected. Analytical. More subdued. 

His Brain’s love was just as strong, if not stronger, than his Heart’s and Royal’s.

The waterworks were really here now, as Virgil sobbed surrounded by the warmth and love of his soulmates. Despite his tears, Virgil couldn’t help but let out a small smile.

_ We’re here for you. Please, don’t hurt yourself. Not like tonight’s actions suggest you wish to. Don’t leave us. We love you. _

Virgil took a few minutes to compose himself before responding to them. He doodled a simple heart on his right wrist, letting his emotions do the talking.

He would try. For them, he would try. He would try to be okay for now, so long as he had these three.

Virgil barely hesitated before adding a small  _ -V _ under the heart for good measure. It was only fair, after all.

Then, three matching hearts of different colors appeared under his own.

Virgil smiled a wide, bright, toothy smile. It was the first time in years he dared to hope that he may be okay someday. Sure, not now, but someday.

Virgil may not have been deserving of their love, but damn if he wasn’t going to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all enjoyed! As always, please leave a kudos or comment, I really love reading your comments and replying to them! You can find me on tumblr at [sociallyawkward--fics](http://www.sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com). I love hearing from all of you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> -No attack, but extreme anxiety  
> -Not eating (not an eating disorder, but not eating due to anxiety)  
> -a brief allusion to self harm (no self harm done)  
> -negative self-talk  
> -let me know if I missed anything/you would like me to warn about anything else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for supporting this fic I am having the time of my life writing it because of your feedback, this is the most fun I’ve had writing in years. Hope you like this chapter! Let me know what you think!

Virgil nervously doodled on his am. A cute, cartoon giraffe, this time. Once it was finished, his soulmates added a few touches of their own, sending warmth and reassurances through the bond. They’d felt his nervousness.

Pat gave it light blue, sparkly glasses.

Lo gave it a navy blue striped tie.

Ro gave it pink and red balloons.

Virgil smiled at the additions.

The uber stopped and Virgil’s smile fell immediately. He pulled his sleeve down with it.

Virgil took a deep breath. He thanked and paid the driver before quickly making his way out of the car with his things. He didn’t have much, and he was glad the driver didn’t comment. Most kids had a lot more luggage when they were about to start college.

That’s right, college. And he was terrified. Luckily, his soulmates had been able to help a little, but they couldn’t exactly take away his anxiety.

They’d grown close over the past year and a half, after Virgil’s breakdown that awful night. Virgil rarely used his words, even still, the idea made him incredibly nervous. Doodles while sharing his emotions worked just as well and took up less space. Plus, he didn’t want to annoy them.

It was just easier to mindlessly doodle, anyway, instead of trying to think of the exact words to say. His emotions could do the talking for him. His soulmates always understood.

They never pushed him, either. Sometimes he would go weeks without acknowledging their notes before coming back like nothing happened. They understood it was hard for him and that he still had healing to do. They _respected_ him. That wasn’t something Virgil had experienced before.

He was immensely appreciative of them.

Virgil made his way through campus with shaking hands, almost dropping his bag once or twice. He nearly got lost trying to find the honors dorm.

Virgil was grateful to the foster families that made him keep his grades up (not really, they were abusive shitheads and he hated them) because it meant he was able to get enough scholarship money to afford college _and_ he qualified for the honors dorms.

Which only had single rooms.

Fantastic news for a mess like him.

Virgil was unpacking what few possessions he had when his soulmates started talking again.

 _We are all starting college this week, correct?_ Lo asked.

After both Pat and Ro responded affirmative (Virgil assumed they knew he was after the giraffe) it was quiet for a few minutes.

Then came an overpowering flow of excitement and anxiety from Ro as they wrote, _What if we all go to the same college?_

Lo answered immediately with their usual calm demeanor (and was that a hint of disappointment?), _That is highly improbable._

Pat’s answer felt like humor mixed with a bit of melancholy, _Aww! C’mon, Lo! Let us have our fun!_

Virgil thought about how he would feel meeting his soulmates. The thought _terrified_ him. He wasn’t good enough for them, not like how they were perfect for each other. They all balanced each other out. He just dragged them down. No, Virgil really hoped they didn’t all go to the same college.

As the day wore on, his skin filled with more short conversations (not like they had a ton of room to write) and small doodles. Virgil remained mostly silent, not wanting them to catch his anxious thoughts and feeling obligated to try and soothe him.

Around 11 that night, each of his soulmates wrote out their usual little “goodnight”s in their own unique ways.

 _Goodnight_. Lo, straight and to the point.

 _Sweet dreams!!_ Pat, happy and optimistic.

 _Sleep well, my loves <3! _Ro, romantic and overdramatic.

All were accompanied by the same feeling of excited anticipation.

Virgil didn’t usually participate in the “goodnight” ritual. It was something they had formed long before he ever started talking to them again, so it only felt like he was imposing on something that was theirs. But with how important tomorrow was going to be to all of them… he felt almost obligated to participate.

Foregoing his usual purple pen, Virgil broke out his skin-safe paints. He’d gotten them a while back, hoping to show off some of his _real_ art to his soulmates, instead of just his usual quick doodles, but he had always been too anxious about it.

Hell, he was too anxious about it now.

Best to just do without thinking.

Virgil held his exposed forearm out in front of him and took a deep breath before dipping his paintbrush in the paint.

He carefully painted the skin into a beautiful night sky with a full moon. It was shockingly calming, and Virgil felt much more at peace after finishing the work. He took a picture with his phone before sneaking down the hall into the communal bathroom to wash it off his own arm. A weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach at the knowledge it would stay stained on his soulmates’ for at least a couple more days.

While he was washing his arm, he felt a response (only from Lo, the other two must have been asleep. They were deep sleepers, unlike him and Lo, the soulbond didn’t tend to wake them).

 _It’s beautiful, V. You are quite talented._ He could feel Lo’s pride radiating through his body. It was strange to feel it directed at him, but it made him strangely happy.

Virgil smiled and made his way back to his room, adding a small heart after Lo’s words to show his appreciation.

He honestly didn’t think he was that great an artist, but it was one of the few things he felt almost good at. That and writing.

That’s why he’d chosen a double major with English and Art. They may not have been “marketable” degrees, but he enjoyed them. Even if he couldn’t find some way to make a career out of them, he couldn’t really do much else. He didn’t have many talents.

Virgil finally managed to fall asleep around one in the morning thanks to some sleeping pills (he would have to ration those, they were expensive and he couldn’t afford another bottle), only to wake up four hours later to his alarm blaring. His logic had been that college kids didn’t like waking up early; therefore, the communal bathroom would be empty at five in the morning and he could shower in peace.

He definitely regretted that line of thinking now, with how exhausted he was.

It took Virgil ten minutes just to extract himself from his blanket cocoon and another ten minutes to find everything he needed for his trip down the hall.

Shower caddy, check. Change of clothes, check. Toothbrush, check. Was he forgetting something? He always felt like he was forgetting something. He was probably forgetting something. But _was_ he forgetting something.

He walked down the hall anyway.

Virgil took as fast of a shower as he could manage (he got good at that in foster care) and threw his clothes on while he was still wet, causing them to uncomfortably stick to his skin. He brushed his teeth in record time (he probably didn’t brush them well enough. His breath was going to smell terrible. Everyone was going to hate him. He couldn’t breathe in _anyone’s_ direction today…) and bolted from the bathroom just in case there were any other early risers.

Virgil got back to his room and had absolutely no clue what to do. His first class wasn’t until ten that morning. The cafeteria probably wasn’t open yet, not this early, and it’s not like he could force himself in there anyway. Talking to people? No thanks. Loud, crowded spaces? _Fuck_ no.

Then Virgil’s blood ran cold as he realized something.

He needed to get a job.

A _job_.

He needed a regular source of income in case of emergencies, even if his college was completely covered (as long as he kept his grades up, at least. Better not fuck this up, fuckup). That meant talking to people. Strangers. _Frequently_.

Time to die.

Virgil flopped back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. A _job_. He covered his eyes with a groan. How had that slipped his mind?

He wallowed in his self pity for longer than he probably should have, only startled out of it by the tingling of his soulbond.

On his eyelids.

 _What the fuck?!_ Virgil panicked. Why the fuck were they writing on their eyelids? What purpose could that serve them? This had never happened before. Was it bad? Who was it? He couldn’t even tell, the feeling was so strange and vaguely uncomfortable. But why the fuck on their eyelids?

Virgil turned toward the mirror hanging on his door.

Eyeliner.

_Eyeliner??_

Eyeliner…

Virgil had perfect winged eyeliner.

His hand scrabbled for the purple pen on his bedside table as he continued to stare at himself in the mirror. He only looked away to write.

Normally he didn’t use words, he had trouble finding the right ones in spur-of-the-moment situations, but right now he knew exactly what to say.

_who the fuck_

Ro sheepishly responded, _Sorry, me. Wanted to look good. First day._

This was the most nervous Virgil had ever felt them.

 _It looks great!_ Pat, still groggy. A strange mix of nervousness, exhaustion, and joy.

 _How does it look so perfect if this has never happened before?_ Lo, half asleep. The soulbond obviously woke them, based on the scattered, unfocused emotions. Very uncharacteristic of them.

 _Practiced on others. Dad didn’t like makeup._ Ro’s words were rushed, sentences stilted. They weren’t even writing in their usual calligraphy. They were terrified.

(And he finally got some insight that his soulmates’ lives may not be as perfect as he thought, but _that wasn’t important right now_ )

Virgil grabbed the paints he used last night and started a quick work on the back of his hand. It had calmed him down last night, maybe it could help calm Ro now?

He painted an elegant crown (as elegant he could get as much as he was rushing through the painting) with jewels embedded in it. He tried to send calming reassurance through the soulbond, but he knew he was too anxious for that and he knew they could feel it. Even still, he couldn’t leave Ro hanging like that.

After finishing, he got joyous compliments from all three of them. Shockingly, Ro did seem to feel calmer. As did his other two soulmates.

Virgil did his best to get the paint off, feeling lighter than he had earlier that morning, and threw on his hoodie. He looked in the mirror one last time before leaving.

He supposed the eyeliner wasn’t _that_ bad.

* * *

Virgil went through his day stressed and anxious. He refused to project these emotions onto his soulmates, so he didn’t doodle or write on his skin at all.

As the day went on, he only continued to get worse. People in every class glared at him as he tapped his pencil, clicked his pen,bounced his leg, and fidgeted endlessly. People shot him weird looks as he sped from place to place ( it wasn’t _his_ fault he walked fast…. Just stop staring, stop staring, stop, _stop, STOP!_ ).

Once, he had rushed through a door someone was holding open, forgetting to thank them because he was trying to focus on his breathing. They let out a mocking, “You’re _welcome_ ,” and he choked out a quiet, “Thank you, sorry,” before tripping over his own feet. The person and their friend _laughed_.

He quickened his (already too fast) pace after that, but the speed-walking helped him burn off nervous energy and stay grounded.

He couldn’t force himself into the cafeteria that day.

The anxiety and of the new situation and environment was already overpowering. He just couldn’t handle it.

Virgil didn’t eat that day.

Virgil didn’t sleep that night.

Virgil ignored his soulmates for the rest of the day.

He couldn’t fucking do this

* * *

Life over the next two months wasn’t simple. Virgil barely slept (too anxious, too overstimulated, insomnia, homework, his new job at the department store stocking… you name it), barely ate (only entered the cafeteria is he _absolutely needed_ food due to his anxiety and he was too anxious to run into the grocery store and grab a pack of granola bars or something), and barely left his room (once again, big surprise: anxiety). He’d managed to make a total of zero friends thanks to his fear of rejection.

So, basically? Fuck anxiety.

This was the worst it had been in _years_ . He’d always joked about it, but now his anxiety was _truly_ “crippling.” All because he couldn’t get a good read on this new situation and environment.

He knew he was worrying his soulmates, too, and that only made him feel more anxious. He was barely writing or drawing to them because he was always in panic-mode. When he did communicate with them, all he got were words of concern at the intense anxiety sent through the bond.

Two and a half months into college, nearing Thanksgiving, and he snapped.

Virgil threw things around his room and fell into a heap on the ground, sobbing.

He couldn’t _do_ this.

He needed to clear his mind somehow.

He stared at the paints on his desk. It had helped before, the two times he’d done it in the beginning of the semester. Maybe it would help again? It was better than the only other alternative he could think of… he promised them he would never do that.

Virgil snatched the paints off his desk and threw off his shirt, starting to paint without even thinking of a design first. He just let the paint flow like his emotions.

After two hours, Virgil’s entire torso was covered. It was a dark galaxy, mixing all of his soulmates’ colors, littered with little white stars.

Dark red and blue flowed into each other, and deep black bringing them all together. Along the edges, almost non-existent, barely touching the rest of the galaxy, was a slight purple tint.

Virgil’s head was shockingly silent.

His arm tingled. Pat.

_Do you feel better, V?_

Virgil made a little check mark next to Pat’s words. He could feel their concern, but he truly did feel much better after letting his emotions flow like the paint that stained his fingers and chest. His head was quieter, he didn’t feel as much pressure anymore, his anxiety had calmed into something manageable.

He felt like he could breathe for the first time in months. Who knew a little paint could do that?

Pat responded, causing joy that was not his own radiate out from Virgil’s core.

_I’m glad!!_

_We were worried_ , Ro added. They were obviously upset (and still a little worried).

 _sorry,_ Virgil wrote.

 _Do not be,_ Lo replied, their sternness immediately stopping the new self-deprecating thoughts in their tracks. _We are all having trouble adjusting to this new chapter in life. And we were all trying to deal in our own ways._

Virgil smiled, both at the reassuring words and the fact that Lo had taken up his entire upper arm all on their own.

 _Thanks,_ he wrote in the crease of his elbow.

Then, Ro on his leg, scribbling words fast and brimming with excitement.

_By the way, not to distract from V’s problems at all, but I’m going to be in a musical production by my school’s drama department early next semester! I have a main role!_

Pat’s excitement mixed in with Ro’s and was almost too much to handle.

_Ro!!! That’s amazing!!_

Virgil was extremely thankful for Lo’s calmer response.

_Congratulations._

Virgil doodled a small thumbs-up.

 _If anyone has a musical at their college early next semester,_ Ro started, but stopped. Their emotions while writing had been a whirlwind, but Virgil could tell they were terrified to continue the thought.

_Please go see it?_

They were hesitant. Scared. Their presence was smaller than it ever had been before.

Pat and Lo gave their word that they would. Virgil didn’t respond, hoping they wouldn’t push. Thankfully, they didn’t.

Virgil wasn’t so lucky (or was it unlucky?) to have his college be the same one his soulmate was performing in, he couldn’t be.

At least, that’s what he thought until he returned from winter break and found a poster in one of the art department buildings…

The drama department was putting on a show.

A musical.

Early in the semester.

 _Shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have been so amazing with your comments thank you so much (please keep it up I love them omg lol). Follow me on tumblr at [sociallyawkward--fics](http://sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com)! Send me asks and prompts, invade my life, idk I just like hearing anything and everything from y'all lol. ALSO! I would appreciate it if you could take this [strawpoll](http://strawpoll.com/xb7kx9ab) and tell me what you think about me opening up either a patreon or ko-fi? It would help me out a lot, thanks!! Love y'all!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS!!  
> -negative self talk  
> -anxiety attack (2x) (one in detail, one not)  
> -general anxious feelings  
> -Let me know if there's anything I missed/anything you'd like me to add. Thanks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry, I meant to have this out like last Thursday, but real life and school got in the way of both me and my beta working on edits. And THEN, because the universe hates me lol, my charger started SMOKING! Luckily, the new one came in today so I could charge the computer and my beta and I were able to finish the chapter. Hope you enjoy it!!

What the _fuck_ was Virgil supposed to do? He couldn’t go to that musical. He _couldn’t_. But would that terrible curiosity of his get him in trouble?

Why was this all so _confusing_?

The musical was getting closer every day, and there were only a few shows. He had to decide soon. He really should decide. He needed to decide. Could he decide? He had to decide.

Virgil threw his pencil across the room with a groan. It wasn’t like he was making any progress on his work anyway.

Why did he have to doubt everything so much? It just made decision-making that much harder. Especially as _life-altering_ as this one. He could _meet_ his _soulmates_ . At least _one_ of them! But did he really want to?

Oh gosh they would hate him. They would all hate him. He was an absolute _mess_. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he could barely keep his A’s (what a fucking failure, you should really be doing homework right now. What are you doing??). He was definitely an eyesore, too pale, too skinny, too short, too fat… The fact that he practically had raccoon eyes from his bags probably didn’t help.

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

_He couldn’t_.

Pat’s tingling came on his arm, cutting through his thoughts and almost startling him out of his chair.

_My school,_ they started, but they didn’t finish.

Apprehension, worry, excitement, terror, joy, a feeling that somehow felt like they were preparing themselves for disappointment.

_A musical_ , they wrote after a few minutes.

_Oh my goodness,_ Ro, terrified.

_Mine as well._ Lo, apprehensive, prepared for disappointment.

Oh _no_.

_Oh no no no no nonononono-_

_You have to go,_ Ro wrote, they were suddenly extremely excited. It was overwhelming.

After Pat and Lo promised they would, it fell silent for a few minutes. Then,

_V?_ Ro, nervous, anticipating his answer, terrified if what Virgil’s response would be.

Virgil pulled his sleeves down over his hands and clumped the excess fabric in his fists.

Ro probably already hated him for being silent.

* * *

Virgil threw himself into his schoolwork, ignoring as the musical grew closer everyday.

Dress rehearsals started and Virgil frequently found himself with intense stage eyeliner and lipstick -- the other stage makeup didn’t stain the skin enough to come through the soulbond. He didn’t leave his dorm at those times.

He wouldn’t write to them. He _couldn’t._ They would _know_ he was at a school with a musical, and he couldn’t risk that. They were better off without him, anyway, right? He shouldn’t go to the musical. He _shouldn’t_. But did that mean he wouldn’t?

He didn’t know what to _do_!

Great, now he was going to have an anxiety attack in the damned cafeteria.

It didn’t help that Pat and Ro had taken to drawing more obvious soulmarks after the news of the musical, hoping to find each other. They frequently doodled cute little hearts or stars on their necks. Thankfully, they never touched the face.

Virgil had taken to wearing scarves, glad it was still cold enough to get away with it. Sure it got a bit warm (especially in crowded places like the cafeteria), but as long as he kept those marks hidden, he would deal.

Suddenly, a shock of excitement and terror startled Virgil so badly that he dropped his sandwich. It fell apart as it fell to his plate.

He took a moment trying to find his breath, carefully using his four-seven-eight pattern. Then, he slowly rolled up his sleeve. Pat’s scribbles.

_STOP_

That would explain the intense emotion.

But wait.

Were they okay? Were they being hurt? Did something happen? What if something happened? Oh gosh, what if Pat was dying? Pat was dying and he couldn’t fix it and it was all his fault and-

_Whoever is outside the cafeteria stay_

Pat’s scribbles were more rushed than ever.

Virgil froze. Pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. Sure, he was _inside_ the cafeteria, and there was no guarantee they went to the same school, but better safe than sorry.

A man rushed past his seat by the door, running like his life depended on it. Virgil’s eyes followed him out the door, watching through the windows. The man raced toward another, more confused man. Grabbed his arm. Touched his neck, where they had matching doodles.

Doodles that matched the ones on Virgil’s neck as well.

Oh no.

Oh _no_.

Pat embraced the other man, knocking a book out of his hands.

No

No

_No_

It had to be Lo. It _had_ to be. Ro wouldn’t be carrying around a book, reading for fun.

No

No

_No_

Pat confirmed it seconds later.

He watched as Pat pulled a pen out of his pocket.

No

No

_No_

Watched as he wrote on his arm. Watched as the words appeared on his own arm in real time.

_I found Lo!_

No

No

_No_

Intense joy. Pride. Love.

Outside, Pat was in tears. Lo, trying to comfort him, looking lost.

No

No

_No_

Virgil couldn’t _breathe_ . He needed to get _out_. He tossed his dinner in the trash can behind him, grabbing his bag and bolting out of the cafeteria.

No

No

_No_

Ro was writing.

_No_

Pat was replying, he was _watching_ Pat reply.

_No_

Virgil raced past Pat and Lo.

_No_

They were blocking the quickest route to his dorm.

_NO_

He bumped into one of them.

_NO_

He kept running.

_NO_

One of them called after him.

**_NO_ **

He kept running.

**_NO_ **

He kept running.

**_NO_ **

He.

Kept.

Running.

Slammed the dorm room door.

_Fuckup._

Leaned against it.

_Poisoned_.

Slid to the ground.

_Worthless._

Tears soaked his face.

_Burden._

Sobs wracked his thin frame.

_Why would they want_ **_you_ ** _?_

He couldn’t breathe.

_You would just hurt them._

He _couldn’t breathe._

_You would just poison them like you have everyone else._

_HE COULDN’T BREATHE._

_You would ruin them._

_BREATHE_

_You don’t deserve them._

**_BREATHE_ **

_They don’t want you._

**_BREATHE_ **

_Give._

_Up._

**_HE COULDN’T FUCKING BREATHE_ **

**_BREATHE, VIRGIL!_ **

**_BREATHE!_ **

_BREATHE!_

_Breathe!_

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

Breathe.

Breathe……

Virgil didn’t know how long it took him, but eventually he calmed down. It was dark out. He felt like he was going to lose his dinner.

Oh.

Oh no.

He was.

He barely managed to make it to the bathroom in time for his stomach to empty its contents. He rested on the ground for a few minutes longer before getting up, rinsing his mouth, and making his way back to his room.

That had been the worst attack in a while. The worst in years. He felt like shit. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to stop existing, but he was too anxious to actually want to die.

Virgil crawled into his rickety bed after changing into his warmest sleepwear. He wrapped himself in the thin blankets. He still shivered.

His soulmates were writing again. He ignored it, closing his eyes and trying to block out the alien emotions flowing through him.

He would go to the musical, Virgil decided as he began to drift off. He would. Just to make sure Pat and Lo and Ro all found each other.

He wouldn’t come forward himself. He wouldn’t do that to them. They didn’t deserve to be saddled with his sorry ass. He couldn’t do that to them.

But he had to know they would find each other. He had to make sure they were happy. Then he would disappear. Cut himself off from them forever. It was better off that way. They would all be better off that way.

* * *

Friday. Opening night.

Virgil called in sick to work. He emailed his professors saying he wouldn’t be in today, he would visit during office hours.

He’d finally caved and managed to buy some granola bars. Some bottled water. He wasn’t going to leave this room until showtime.

Ro was writing.

_Hey so the director said we could have 1 distinct soulmark showing so that we could find if we had soulmates in the audience._

Virgil could already tell where this was going. He started readying his paints.

_V?_

Virgil painted a small check park with the black.

Ro replied with a heart.

Virgil tried to ignore it.

_Don’t get any more attached._

He used the mirrors in his room to make sure the work was perfect.

A dragon, pale lavender. It’s tail covered the top of his spine going up to the nape of his neck. It’s body snaked to the side and around, a ferocious head curling up onto his jaw.

He concentrated hard, trying to make sure the mark would last on their skin through the weekend. He wasn’t exactly sure if that’s how it worked, but it didn’t hurt to try.

He chose a slightly darker purple to do some shading and detail work. Then, he added the finishing touch: tendrils of black fire coming from it’s nostrils.

Virgil’s last work for his soulmates.

Might as well make it memorable, right?

Awe filled the soulbond from three different sides.

_V, it’s gorgeous!_ Ro wrote.

_Omg V!!! It’s beautiful!!_ Pat wrote.

_It is quite the impressive work._ Lo wrote.

He didn’t reply, smiling bitterly as he went to wash it off his own neck. They would be able to find _each other_. That’s what mattered.

Not him.

A few more hours passed. Ro put on their makeup for opening night. Dark eyeliner. Intense lipstick. Virgil couldn’t do much about it. He had debated getting a paler lipstick to cover the stage makeup with, but he was worried about how it would affect Ro’s. He couldn’t do that to them.

Virgil sat on his bed, staring at the wall. The same position he’d been in for hours. His soulmates had been shockingly silent.

Until now, that is.

An intense burst of emotion. Of _anxiety_ . All forced into a brief second of writing. It stole Virgil’s breath and made his hands shake. Ro was _not_ okay.

_HELP_ , sloppy writing, not the usual calligraphy. It was terribly shaky.

A second burst of the intense anxiety. Virgil was able to keep his focus this time thanks to his breathing exercises. _DYING_

They were having an attack. Ro was having an anxiety attack. Ro was having an anxiety attack because of his show. He had to help. He _had_ to help. Could he help from here? Virgil had to help.

_Ro can you read this?_ Virgil kept as calm as he could. If he got anxious it would only make Ro worse.

_YES_

_Breathe in time with my marks, okay? 4 sec in, 7 sec hold, 8 sec out._

_OK_

Virgil rolled up his pant leg, starting to make tick marks. Four slow ticks. A pause. Seven slow ticks. A pause. Eight slow ticks. A pause.

He repeated this enough times that his calves were covered in the small purple lines. He only stopped once Ro started writing again.

_Thanks, V_ , they felt much calmer now and Virgil sighed in relief, glad he could help.

_How did you know how to do that?_ Pat asked, feeling helpless and scared.

_happens a lot_ , Virgil didn’t elaborate further than that.

_You are very strong, V._ Lo replied, with the utmost sincerity.

_nah_ , he dismissed the praise.

If he was _actually_ strong, like them, he wouldn’t have the stupid attacks in the first place.

Virgil could feel them writing again, could feel that it was directed at him, but he ignored it. He rolled his pant legs back down and threw his jacket back on. He went back to waiting

On the back of his hand, Pat. More difficult to ignore if he watched it happen. Pat was sad.

_Lo and I can’t make it tonight :(_

Ah, that’s why.

_Tomorrow?_ Ro asked beneath it.

_Yes!!_ Pat’s excitement returned as if it had never left.

Then, silence.

Finally

* * *

Virgil wished assigned seating didn’t exist. His ticket placed him in the very middle of the audience, not even an _aisle_ seat, but it still felt much too close to the stage. What if Ro saw him? They would have no way of telling, but _still_.

Despite the fact that Pat and Lo couldn’t make it, Virgil still decided to come. He’d taken the whole day off, he felt obligated to see the event through. Not only that, but he’d know better what to expect tomorrow when he came back. He _had_ to make sure that Pat and Lo found Ro.

Virgil fidgeted the program in his hands, not bothering to read it. He’d be too anxious to focus on the words, trying to figure out who Ro was and trying to avoid their sight after.

He hadn’t bothered to figure out what the musical was about beforehand, but based off the picture on the front of the program, it was something medieval or fantasy themed. At least it seemed that way. The main character appeared to be some sort of prince.

Soon enough, the lights dimmed and the orchestra started playing the beginning notes. Characters came out, belting the lyrics to the opening number in their absolutely amazing voices. It was nice, Virgil actually liked it. He almost managed to forget the original reason why he had come.

Until the prince came bounding out to sing.

Bearing his dragon.

Virgil got tunnel vision. He struggled to breathe for a moment before starting his exercises.

His _Royal_.

Played a _prince_

How ironic.

During intermission, Virgil finally checked his program. He _had_ to know.

Roman. That was his soulmate’s name.

_Roman_.

It suited him.

Virgil really enjoyed the show. He didn’t originally think he would like musicals, but he had really enjoyed this one. Maybe he would look into more shows.

The house lights came up as actors came out to take their bows, most likely looking for soulmarks matching their own. Almost every cast member’s eyes scanned the audience as they bowed, and continued scanning as they moved further back on stage to make room for more.

Then Roman came out to take his final bow. His eyes felt more intense than all the others. Whether that was true or it was the fact that Ro was looking for _him_ made it feel that way, Virgil didn’t know. What he _did_ know was that he could not let Ro see him. He sunk down slightly in his seat.

Roman seemed disappointed, but kept his smile until the curtain fell.

Virgil ignored the guilt pooling in his gut and bolted.

It was better off this way.

* * *

The next night, Virgil repeated the same steps.

Stayed in his room all day.

Ignored his soulmates’ writing.

Made his way to the theater.

Got his ticket.

Found his seat.

Waited.

His seat was much closer to the stage this time, which unsettled him. Roman might see him.

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten there so early.

Virgil’s anxiety sky rocketed when a couple came in, holding hands. They sat in the row in front of him, but more to the left.

They both bore his dragon.

He recognized their faces.

He was too close, too close, _too close_ , but he couldn’t move.

_Fuck_ assigned seating.

The show started.

Virgil watched Pat and Lo. He knew the exact moment they spotted Ro. They both leaned forward in their seats, Pat grabbing Lo’s arm.

Virgil smiled bitterly to himself. They would be happy together, the three of them.

During intermission, Pat rushed out, leaving Lo to looking just as confused as Virgil felt. What was even weirder was that he almost didn’t make it back before intermission ended.

Then he felt it. Pat doodling. Starting at his jawline. Ending on his cheekbone.

Virgil quickly covered the side of his face with sweater-clad fingers, he couldn’t let them see. _Especially_ not with them sitting so close.

Pat rushed in seconds later as the lights starting fading in and out, signaling the end of intermission, looking incredibly pleased with himself. He had scattered bright red hearts trailing from his jaw to his cheekbone.

The lights went out and the second act started. It was too late to leave now. People would notice. _Pat and Lo_ might notice.

That was probably their plan.

_Damn them._

Roman came out much more confident than before, obviously happy with Pat’s soulmarks. Virgil could practically see how excited he was to finish the show and search the crowd for them.

The final bow inevitably came, too quickly for Virgil’s liking. He clapped with the rest of the audience, preparing himself to bolt the second the curtain fell.

Roman came out and energetically too his bow. His smile got impossibly wider when he spotted Pat and Lo. They waved excitedly.

Then, Roman’s eyes scanned back father and met his own.

His eyes went wide.

So did Virgil’s.

Virgil broke eye contact to look over at Pat and Lo. They were staring at him.

Time seemed to slow.

Ro’s smile grew and he raised his hand to wave excitedly.

Pat’s look of shock turned into a massive grin.

Lo smiled fondly at him.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It wasn’t, it wasn’t it _wasn’t_.

Virgil knew the crowd continued to cheer around him, but he couldn’t hear it over the blood rushing in his ears.

Pat twitched, as if to move toward him. That threw Virgil into action.

He stood and bolted from the theater, shoving through the crowd, running off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh drama, cliffhangers, DRAMA. I love it. Please scream at me either here or on tumblr at [sociallyawkward--fics](https://sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com). I live off your comments and they help me find motivation to get the next chapter out sooner! (As long as my charger doesn't try to set itself on fire again lol)


	5. AUTHORS NOTE, NOT A CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE, NOT A CHAPTER

Okay, quick author's note because of the events of tomorrow. If things end up okay, this "chapter" will get deleted and the real chapter 5 will go up as soon as I finish it.

 

I live in the US. If net neutrality gets taken away, I will not be able to finish this fic. If that happens, I want you all to know how much I LOVE you all. 

You've all bee so supportive and your messages and comments have been making my day for the past two weeks. This fic has given me a reason to live because my depression has been really bad this year and I've been searching for reasons to keep going. Knowing that people loved my writing helped bring me out of that and helped me feel okay, even GOOD, for a while.

I appreciate you and love you all so much. Whether you've commented or not. Whether you've left kudos or not. If you have clicked on this fanfic and read it, I love and appreciate you.

I'm terrified, guys. I really am.

If you live in the US, contact your reps. Contact the FCC. Use the resist bot. We can hope and pray, but we can also  _take action_.

 

If we lose it all tomorrow, just know:

Thank you so, so much.  _Thank_ you. There are not enough words to thank you with

And I love you all.  _So_ much. 

 

Even if we lose something so important to us, please try to keep going. I'm going to try. Maybe we'll get this back someday if we lose it tomorrow.

 

I hope to see you all soon. If I don't? 

 

I love you (i know I'm being repetitive), and keep going. Even if it's hard.

 

Love,

K


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> -anxiety attack  
> -general anxious feelings  
> -let me know if I missed anything/there is anything you'd like me to add

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, just letting you know: THIS CHAPTER IS UN-BETA'D!  
> Let me know if you find any mistakes please. My beta is having some mental health and school issues right now, but they should be back helping me for chapter 6 because the semester will be over by then.  
> Also: I know I said I'd delete my panicked author's note next chapter but I'm in a rush to finish another fic that has to go up today for Virgil's birthday so I don't have time to try and figure it out lol

Virgil ignored the shouts behind him and _ran_.

He raced through the campus, trying to get as far away from the drama department as he could.

He could keep running forever and they’d never find him.

Virgil didn’t know when the tears started blurring his vision, or if they’d always been there. He ignored them.

He ignored everything.

His damp cheeks. His burning legs and lungs. His freezing fingers and face. He ignored it.

The pressure had built and the dam had finally cracked, split open. He’d been flung into full-on panic-mode with no warning.

This was _not_ how tonight was supposed to go. They weren’t supposed to see him. He would just bring them down, hurt them, ruin them, _destroy_ them.

If they didn’t before, they definitely hated Virgil now. He ruined Ro’s night. Ran away. Made a scene. Made them embarrass themselves by calling after him.

Virgil finally collapsed on what seemed to be a patch of grass.

Running had used his energy and kept the attack at bay, but there was nothing stopping it now.

The monster took over.

Virgil couldn’t get a steady breath in. All the oxygen had been sucked out of the air around him. And it was too _cold_ . It _hurt_. It turned his lungs to ice. He was suffocating.

_Pathetic._

It was too cold. But it was too hot. Is this what dying was? Is this what it felt like? Virgil had to be dying. There wasn’t another explanation.

_They hate you._

He didn’t deserve them. It was better off this way. He didn’t deserve them, it was better off this way. He didn’t deserve them, it was better off this way, didn’t _deserve_ , better off, better off, _better off, better off better off betteroffbetteroffbetteroff--_

Hands. There were hands grabbing him, voices yelling.

_No, no, no, please, no._

Pulling at his arms (when had his nails embedded themselves in his scalp?). Pulling, pulling, _pulling_ , they needed to _stop!_

Hands on his wrists, hands on his face, yelling, yelling, yelling.

Off! He needed them off! It was too hot and he was _freezing_ . He needed them _OFF_!!

Stop, please, don’t touch don’t touch don’t touch --

They left.

Stopped yelling.

Stopped moving.

Virgil stopped breathing.

The tears wouldn’t stop, they wouldn’t stop, but his lungs wouldn’t _start_.

He needed out, out out _out out outoutoutout--_

Hands. Hands were back. He needed them _away_. His hoodie. Hands took it. No.

 _No!_  
No, no, no, he _needed_ that. He needed that, he needed that, he needed that.

They would see, they would see and they would hurt him. The marks, the marks, the marks. They would see he had more than one. They would hurt, hurt, hurt him.

He deserved it.

The hoodie was gone. It was gone, gone, gone.

Hands pulled at his scarf. They were going to choke him. They were going to kill him. He was going to die. He deserved it. He hurt _everyone_.

The scarf was gone. It was gone, gone, gone.

It was gone and they would see his neck. Pale, veined, covered in ink that wasn’t his own. They would see and they would know and they would _hurt_ him.

Wrists. Hands on his wrists. Pulling, tugging, yanking.

No, no, no, they couldn’t have those too. They couldn’t. Stop touching, _stop touching, stopstopstop--_

Warm. Solid. His hands hit something. Palms flat, palms warm. Rising and falling, rising and falling.

Up.

Hold.

Down.

Up.

Hold.

Down.

Four.

Seven.

Eight.

Four.

Seven.

Eight.

Breathing. Breathing, breathing, breathing. It was a sturdy chest, heart beating strong and lungs _breathing_.

Virgil worked to match. He tried so hard. It didn’t work. He was so _frustrated_.

But the chest was patient. The chest was steady. Hands belonging to the chest rested their own palms on the backs of his hands, wrists released.

They were warm. The chest was warm. He was so _cold_.

A weight on his shoulders. Familiar. Warm.

His hoodie.

The chest stayed steady.

Up.

Hold.

Down.

Four.

Seven.

Eight.

After long minutes, Virgil’s breath steadied. His tears slowed to a stop. He still shook, but not as violently as before. The chest that his hands rested on still rose and fell in time with his breathing exercise and someone behind him was humming soothingly.

Virgil opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to Roman on the ground in front of him. He looked around. Apparently, he collapsed on the lawn outside the cafeteria, from which Lo was emerging with four to-go coffee cups. Pat was sitting on the ground behind him, humming. Probably to try and calm him.

When he saw Virgil looking, he smiled and put a hand in between his shoulder blades. Virgil tensed, but didn’t move away.

Lo finally reached them, balancing the cups precariously. Virgil tried to take his hands back from Roman. He squeezed them one more time, probably meant to comfort, before releasing them. Virgil accepted a cup from Lo. It was hot, combating the chills going through his body.

“Coffee?” Pat asked, sounding concerned. “This late?”

“I-” Virgil started, his voice weak and hoarse. He coughed and tried again, but it didn’t sound much better. “I can’t have caffeine.”

“It’s just hot chocolate,” Lo said, taking a sip from his own cup. “I thought we could all use a pick-me-up, and the cafeteria workers were happy to oblige.”

Why was the cafeteria even _open_ this late?

Virgil took a tentative sip anyway. The warm chocolate filled his mouth and helped soothe his raw throat as he swallowed.

After another minute of awkward silence, Virgil shivered involuntarily. The others all looked at him. He cursed his body’s actions.

Pat reached over and wrapped his hoodie tighter around him. Returned his scarf and made certain it was properly warming his neck. Virgil resisted the urge to push him away, unused to the gentle contact.

“We need to get him out of the cold,” Roman spoke softly, a sharp contrast to how he had been on stage.

“My dorm is probably closest,” Lo said before turning and walking away, not checking if they were following.

Ro and Pat helped him up, tried to keep him steady as he walked on shaky and exhausted legs.

It took Virgil longer than it should have to recognize the path they were walking. The honors dorm. Of _course_ Lo was in the honors dorm. He couldn’t belong anywhere else. The man was a genius.

Once inside, Lo started to move toward the elevators, but Virgil stopped walking, forcing Ro and Pat to stop as well.

He wanted to avoid being in an enclosed space with them for as long as he could. Plus, he’d been in that elevator once, on the first day of school and he was _never_ going in it again. It was slow, rickety, dark, and he was certain it was going to kill someone one of these days.

Ro redirected them towards the staircase without a word, which somehow made Virgil feel better and worse at the same time.

They walked up the stairs in silence. It was awkward. Tense. Uncomfortable. Virgil _hated_ it. He was resisting the urge to run again. The only reason he didn’t was because of Ro and Pat on either side of him.

Lo lived on the fourth floor. Two floors above Virgil. Everyone was breathing heavy by the time they exited the stairwell. Virgil felt guilty.

Lo led them down the hall for a short while before reaching his own door and unlocking it. Pat skipped inside with a smile, making himself right at home. Ro entered a bit more hesitantly, but still entered nonetheless. Virgil stood outside, petrified.

They were all staring at him.

He started panicking again.

“V,” Lo said calmly. “It’s okay.”

 _It’s not okay_ , Virgil thought. _Nothing is okay. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to find me._

“V, please,” Pat said gently.

Virgil entered the room on shaky legs. Lo put a hand on his upper back. Probably meant to comfort, but it only sent the panic deeper into his bones.

The door shut behind him. He flinched.

It was silent. Ro was in the desk chair. Pat was on the bed. Lo was behind him. He was a few steps into the room. It was silent.

And _uncomfortable_.

Pat shifted uncomfortably on the bed and that spurred everyone into motion.

Lo moved to sit on the bed next to Pat, Ro sat up straighter and wheeled the chair closer to the bed.

It was silent for another minute.

“Why did you run?” Ro asked quietly.

Virgil was silent for a few moments, uncertain of what to say. Should he bother trying to formulate a lie? No, they’d find out eventually. Better to just rip off the bandaid. It would be easier for everyone. Then he could leave. Then he could disappear.

Then they could be happy.

“You-you weren’t supposed to see me.” Virgil whispered.

“But _why_?” Roman asked louder, voice breaking.

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. Angled his head down. Balled the excess fabric of his hoodie sleeves in his fists.

_Don’t get emotional, don’t get emotional, don’t get emotional--_

“V?” Pat called gently.

“You’re better off without me.” Virgil forced out.

They were shocked into silence.

“Falsehood.” Lo said fiercely, _loudly_ . A stark contrast from the soft, gentle, _broken_ voices they had all used.

Virgil had flinched. Lo’s face softened as he stood and moved toward Virgil carefully.

“There is no possible way we would be better off without you.” He said.

Pat stepped forward as well, gently taking Virgil’s hands in his own. “You complete us, V.”

Ro came forward and dropped a steady hand on his shoulder. “You make us better.

“We _need_ you.” Lo finished for them.

“But - I - I don’t -” Virgil couldn’t find his words. He didn’t plan for this. He didn’t plan for them actually _wanting_ him.

They waited patiently for him to find his voice, never showing any signs of impatience. They remained steady and strong beacons of hope around him. They were all so -- and he wasn’t -- and he couldn’t -- and they wouldn’t --

“You’re all so perfect.” Virgil forced out shakily. “And - and I’m _me_.”

“But we’re not,” Pat said, his voice beginning to sound desperate.

“You aren’t the only one here who’s damaged, V.” Lo said. He started sounding angry and Virgil tried to shrink back.

Ro noticed and stepped in. “None of our lives have been perfect, we’ve all had our share of hardship.” His voice was gentler.

Pat squeezed his hands once more before releasing them, sensing that he was uncomfortable. “Some of us drew the short straw in life, though, I guess.” His eyes flitted between Virgil and Lo.

Roman took Virgil gently by the shoulders and made him face him. He carefully took Virgil’s chin in his hand, forcing him to make eye contact.

“Please,” he whispered. “Give this a chance.”

Virgil searched his eyes for any signs that this was a lie, another trick from the universe to try and break him down. He found nothing but sincerity.

“Okay.” He whispered back.

His answer granted him one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. It grew slowly. It was shaky. It was the best smile he’d ever seen.

Roman pulled him into a hug.

Virgil tensed at first. He wasn’t used to this kind of contact. When was the last time someone _actually hugged_ him?

Probably before the soulmate assembly in the third grade.

He slowly raised his arms and wrapped them around Roman. Ro only held him tighter.

For some reason, tears urged to fall. Virgil held them back.

Ro held him for a long time, but eventually he drew away. Virgil felt suddenly very cold without the contact.

Lo stepped up next and immediately opened his arms, a guilty look on his face. Virgil slowly and hesitantly walked into his embrace, hugging back loosely.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Lo whispered in his ear. “I have a lot of healing to do, too.”

Virgil hugged back a bit tighter after that. The tears pushed harder, but Virgil pushed back. He wasn’t in the mood for more waterworks today.

Lo eventually released him. Virgil didn’t even have time to feel the cold this time, as Pat swooped in immediately. He gathered Virgil close and held him tightly (yet, somehow, Virgil didn’t feel trapped). Pat gently stroked the hairs at the nape of his neck and hushed him.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just let it out.”

So Virgil did.

His arms cam up and gripped Pat like a lifeline. He buried his head in Pat’s shoulder and began to sob. Long, wailing, loud cries. Heavy sobs. He wasn’t even sad, so he wasn’t certain where this emotion came from.

This went on for long minutes, with Pat rubbing his back and making soothing “shhh” sounds. Virgil eventually drew away, still hiccuping, and wiped his face.

“Sorry,” Virgil croaked. “I don’t know why I was crying.”

“That’s okay,” Ro said gently.

“Sometimes you just need a good cry to help yourself feel better,” Pat replied with a smile.

Virgil smiled shakily. He supposed he _did_ feel better. Pat and Ro both took a hand and gently led him to sit on Lo’s bed. They joined him. Lo tried to sit in the desk chair, but Pat grab him with a goofy grin on his face and forced Lo onto the bed with them. Lo pretended to be annoyed, but didn’t bother hiding his smile.

Four adult men forced onto a twin bed was definitely a tight fit. There was no way to sit comfortably and not be touching anyone else in some way. Normally, Virgil would shy away from the contact, but tonight it was almost like he craved it.

“I suppose we should finally do formal introductions, then?” Lo asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh, oh!” Pat cried out next to Virgil, causing him to flinch. “Sorry!” He winced, and made sure to regulate his volume. “I was just gonna say, I wanna go first!”

Ro motioned for him to continue with a grin. Pat beamed.

“I’m Patton! I still don’t know what I wanna be when I grow up, which is why I haven’t chosen a major yet, but I want loads and _loads_ of pets!” He clapped his hands together once with a blinding grin.

“I’m Roman,” Ro started, a bit of dramatic flair in his voice, “and I wish to someday be a star! Whether it be on Broadway or in Hollywood, I will not stop until I make it!”

“I am Logan,” Lo sounded a lot less enthused than the others had, “and I am currently majoring in Soulmate Sciences. I wish to discover more about how and why the bond works. Though, I also have a minor in astronomy. It is a passion of mine.”

His eyes had lit up when talking about school. Virgil filed the image away in his brain in the new folder entitled “Soulmates.”

They all turned their eyes to him and he hunched his shoulders up a bit.

“O-oh, well, um, I, uh, I just -” Virgil cut himself off with a frustrated huff. Speaking was so _hard_ after an attack. This is why he liked to communicate with drawings. He never knew when his words were going to fail him.

“It’s okay, take your time!” Pat said brightly.

Virgil took a few deep breaths and tried again. “I-I’m Virgil. I’m double majoring in English and art-rt.” His voice was still softer than he wanted, but at least he had managed to get the words out with minimal stuttering.

Then Patton launched himself at Virgil in a tackle-hug, giggling, and knocked them both backwards in the bed. Roman laughed, long and loud, and Logan couldn’t hold back a grin.

Virgil allowed himself a smile. Maybe he could get used to this.

Despite the hour growing later and later, they stayed in Logan’s room and just _talked_. They talked for hours without stopping.

Normally, Virgil would’ve felt overstimulated ages ago, but he was enjoying himself too much to be anxious (at least, nothing more than the usual underlying anxiety that was _always_ there). Plus, they respected his boundaries and what he needed. They did their best to keep their voices from getting too loud and didn’t force him to talk if he looked uncomfortable.

At one point, Virgil had ended up on his back, starfished across Logan’s bed, head turned to watch Roman animatedly tell a story. He was standing, so as to have more room to gesticulate. Patton was draped across the desk chair and Logan lounged on the floor next to the bed.

When Roman finished, he playfully nudged Virgil’s legs and feet out of the way to sit at the end of the bed. They lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Patton broke it a few minutes later. “Hey, Logan?”

Logan hummed to show he was listening, though his eyes were closed. It _was_ pretty late.

“What are the odds of us all going to the same college?”

Logan huffed with amusement. “Fuckin’ small, I’ll tell you that.” He muttered.

Roman snorted.

Patton got a mischievous glint in his eyes. Virgil propped himself up on his elbows to make sure he didn’t miss anything good. Roman angled his body toward Patton in curiosity. The creaking of the bed got Logan to crack his eyes open and turn toward Patton.

“So would you say…” Patton trailed off as he struggled to contain himself. His grin was almost too wide to speak through.

Logan sat up and narrowed his eyes at Patton.

“That the odds were… infinitesimal?”

Logan’s face of shock and betrayal was priceless. Roman snorted, then doubled over in laughter. Patton’s grin grew impossibly wider. Virgil clamped a hand over his mouth to hide the beaming smile that resided there.

They all knew the incident Patton was referring to. In their freshman year of high school, Logan had used the word “infinitesimal” when describing the amount of stars residing in the galaxy, thinking it meant “really, _really_ big.” Patton, not knowing the word, had looked it up immediately and proceeded to teasingly correct Logan.

To this day, Patton has never let Logan let live it down.

“You get a definition wrong _one time_!” Logan cried out.

That’s what broke Virgil. He threw his head back, laughing hysterically.

For some reason, the situation was just _so hilarious_ . Maybe it was due to the stress of the night, maybe it was because it was so late, maybe Virgil was just giddy about the fact that he met his soulmates and they _liked_ him. Whatever it was, it had Virgil cackling.

Eventually, Virgil’s laughter tapered off, his face flushed and eyes teary. When was the last time he had laughed that hard?

Scratch that, when was the last time he had _laughed_?

He turned to look at the other three, smile still bright and eyes shining, and found them all with matching expressions.

Maybe he _did_ belong here, with them.

At least, for right now, it felt right.

They stayed together another hour at least, but eventually Logan had to kick them out and send them back to their own dorms. They all exchanged numbers and went their separate ways.

After Virgil had gotten ready for bed and was about to settle down, Patton started the “goodnight” ritual. Virgil smiled at the fondness that radiated from all three of them.

_Sleep tight!!_

_Sleep well, my darlings!_

_Goodnight._

Virgil doodled a crescent moon under the words, giving it a face that made it appear to be sleeping and adding little “zzz”s for dramatic effect, and settled down for bed.

As he slowly drifted off, a fuzzy memory of being pushed into a bench in the mall came to the forefront of his mind, a certain thought from that day popping into his head.

_“I’m not even fucking gay.”_

_Well that was a fucking lie,_ Virgil thought, and proceeded to wake himself up from laughing so hard.

For the first time in who-knew-how-long, Virgil had no trouble falling, or staying, asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a wild ride lol. This is the longest chapter yet, winning by a couple hundred words lol. Who knew I was capable of writing a chapter so long!  
> Feel free to scream at me! I live off of your comments, it helps motivate me to get chapters out faster for you guys! You can also scream at me on tumblr at [sociallyawkward--fics](https://sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com).  
> I can guarantee that the next chapter will be out before Christmas, I just can't guarantee exactly when lol. See y'all then, and thanks for all your sweet messages on the authors note last "chapter!" Love you all!


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> -emotionally/verbally abusive father  
> -homophobic language  
> -please let me know if I missed anything/you would like me to add anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yo, Merry Christmas Eve, if you celebrate. If not, happy Dec 24, here's an update! Unbeta'd because there was just no time unfortunately.  
> Also, my beta thanks you all for your kind words last chapter and sends love and hugs. They're feeling WAY better!  
> Also also, I'd like to preface this with: I have no idea how college in general/school productions work, therefore I have no clue what "backstage" is like.

Virgil was glad the next day was Sunday. He slept long and hard, his body appreciating the crash after weeks of sleep deprivation. He woke with a groan as one of his soulmates started writing on his forearm. Pat? It felt like Pat. He was tired too, but as bubbly as always. Virgil sat up with another groan and checked his arm.

_ Anyone want to meet for lunch? _

Lunch? Virgil furrowed his brow, then checked his phone in a panic. It was already one in the afternoon. What the fuck? Had he ever slept this late in his  _ life _ ?

Both Lo and Ro responded affirmatives. They planned to meet at the cafeteria at 1:30.

_ Virgil? _ Patton asked.

He made a lazy check mark. Might as well join them, he hadn’t eaten anything substantial all week and had been feeling faint for the past couple days. He could use some protein.

Virgil sluggishly dragged himself out of bed and down the hall to the showers. The room was, thankfully, empty. He took a quick shower and threw on an old, worn pair of jeans and the most comfortable sweater he owned. It was a comfort day, especially after the stress of the last two.

Virgil was just glad he was feeling well enough to bother with simple self-care like that. He hadn’t bothered with it in a while. It felt good. He pulled on his hoodie and zipped it before wrapping his scarf around his neck.

He took a deep breath and made his way out of the dorm, walking in the direction of the cafeteria. On his walk, he realized people kept  _ looking _ at him. Some looked confused, some smiled at him, and some just  _ stared _ .

It took him another few minutes to realize that Pat’s hearts were still crawling up his cheek.

Oh  _ shit _ .

Virgil quickly pulled his scarf up so it was wrapped around his face as well, pretending it was just to protect his nose from the cold. Plenty of other people were doing it. 

Right? 

It really didn’t matter since he was going to to cafeteria and would have to take it off, but at least it helped on the walk there.

Maybe he shouldn’t go to lunch. He would just get in the way with his anxiety about the whole thing. They would have a lot more fun without him. Maybe he should just turn around.

Virgil checked his phone. 1:38. He was late. Oh  _ no _ . He was  _ late _ . They were going to hate him. They were never going to forgive him. They were going to hate him.  _ Hate _ him.

It was too late to turn around. He was already there. He had to commit now, he had no choice.

Virgil’s stomach growled.

Plus, there was that.

Virgil raised his eyes from the sidewalk to look towards the cafeteria in front of him. To his surprise, his soulmates stood on the edge of the walkway outside, carefully out of the way of foot traffic. They talked casually, but seemed to be searching for something at the same time.

Then, Patton’s eyes met his own, and his smile grew as bright and warm as the sun.

“Virgil!” He called with an excited wave.

Virgil hunched his shoulders a bit and walked toward them.

“Hey,” he said quietly through his scarf.

Before any other greetings could be exchanged, Roman shivered. “Let’s get inside before I freeze,” he laughed.

Virgil winced.  _ He _ had made them wait out in the cold. 

They quickly began making their way inside. Before Virgil could get too into his own head, Patton bumped their shoulders together. Virgil turned to him in confusion.

“It’s okay,” Patton said with a wink. “I got here late, too.”

They quickly got their food, all of them aiming for warmer options due to the chill outside. Virgil got as much food as he felt right getting. He wouldn’t want them to run out before everyone in the school could grab some food. 

Apparently, the others did not share this sentiment. They piled their plates high with the options, ready to dig in.

“Virgil, that cannot be all you are eating,” Logan said. The words came out harsh.

Virgil winced. “Sorry - I just - I’m sorry, I-”

“Hey, it’s alright, Patton said gently.

Logan’s face softened. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Come on.” He awkwardly put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and gave it a gentle nudge.

Logan led Virgil back through the cafeteria pointing at foods and asking if Virgil liked them or not. Virgil would either nod or shake his head and, depending on the answer, Logan would place some amount of the food on his plate. It was a lot of food. More than Virgil felt right taking.

“What if they run out?” He asked quietly.

Logan turned to him with an eyebrow raised, but the look quickly softened. “Virgil,” he said, “they are constantly making more food. There are many students in the school, yes, but the staff is well prepared and will not run out of food.”

“Okay…” Virgil trailed off, still uncertain.

After Logan placed a few more things onto Virgil’s plate, they made their way to the table Patton and Roman had been saving for them. Logan took a seat next to Patton, so Virgil sat across from them next to Roman.

It was quiet for a few minutes as they all devoured their food before it got cold. Virgil ate much slower than the others, being unused to having so much food.

Patton eventually spoke up. “So, Virgil, how are you feeling?”

Virgil, caught off guard, nearly choked on the mac ‘n cheese he’d been chewing. He swallowed as quickly as he could so he could answer.

“I’m alright,” he said, automated answer.

Patton kept watching him. Virgil shifted under the scrutiny.

“Is that the real answer?” He asked. “Or is that the ‘this is the answer I’m supposed to give’ answer?”

Virgil paused. No one had called him out on his automated response before. He thought about how he felt.

He was a little tired and sore, no one recovered from an attack like that overnight and he  _ did _ run halfway across campus last night. Surprisingly, though, he didn’t feel too bad today, which was new.

“No, I - I think I’m actually okay,” he said quietly.

Patton beamed. “That’s great! How are you two, then?”

“I am well,” Logan said, spearing some lettuce on his fork. “I am looking forward to a study session for astronomy tonight. It will be freezing, but we’re driving to the outskirts of the city to observe the sky.”

“That sounds fun!” Patton chirped.

“I, however, am dreading returning to the theatre for the final show,” Roman groaned. “The directors will  _ not _ be happy about me diving off the stage last night.”

Virgil shrunk in on himself and muttered out, “Sorry…”

“Do not fret,” Roman replied, lacking the usual dramatic flair Virgil had come to associate with him, shifting his tone to something more gentle. He grabbed Virgil’s hand. “It was worth it.”

Virgil felt his face go warm. Was he  _ blushing _ ? Did Roman just  _ flirt _ with him? Was it even flirting? Virgil had no clue if it counted as flirting, he’d never experienced flirting before.

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “wh-whatever.”

Patton and Roman chuckled.

“Are any of you going to come again tonight?” Roman asked after another few minutes of silent eating.

“I cannot,” Logan said, “for reasons already explained.”

“Sorry, Roman,” Patton said, pouting. “I’m meeting my grandma for dinner and ice cream tonight.”

“I’m free,” Virgil said quietly.

Roman beamed. “Excellent!” He shouted dramatically.

Virgil flinched a little. As did Logan.

“Roman,” he said. “Volume.”

“Sorry.” Roman grinned sheepishly. Then he turned to Virgil. “What do you say to a little backstage tour? I can take you with me early before the show.”

Virgil hesitated. Would they get in trouble? Was he allowed back there? Was he really ready to spend time with one of his soulmates one-on-one?

Seeing his concerned face, Roman spoke up again, “Hey, it’s okay. The directors are actually pretty chill, despite all my complaining about them.”

Roman was looking at him so hopefully. He  _ couldn’t _ say no.

“Uh, sure.”

Roman beamed. 

Pattonn smiled at them. “Take lots of embarrassing pictures of Roman with his makeup only half done for us, Virgil!”

Virgil smiled a little bit. “Sure thing, Patton.”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “Next time you star in a show, I would also like a tour. I’m fascinated by the behind-the-scenes work and would like to know more.”

“Of course,” Roman said, obviously pleased that Logan thought he was talented enough to star in future productions. “It would be a pleasure to show you all around.”

They ended up staying in the warm cafeteria for hours talking (and gorging themselves on even more food) and enjoying each other’s company. Patton kept asked questions like, “what’s your favorite color?” (red, navy blue, purple) or “what’s your favorite animal?” (horses, elephants, raccoons). 

Eventually, Roman realized the time and shouted, “Shit, I’m late!” He then grabbed Virgil’s wrist and dragged them both into a sprint.

Halfway to the drama department, Roman seemed to notice Virgil’s heavy breaths and slowing pace, slowing them into a brisk walk instead.

“Sorry,” Roman said. “I’m supposed to get there early for costuming and such.”

“It’s fine,” Virgil panted.

It was silent the rest of the walk to the theatre. Virgil was freezing, but his wrist where Roman held him was warm. Hot, even. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, yet.

“Y’know,” Roman said as they walked into the theatre, “there was a reason I wanted someone to come again tonight.” He took a deep breath, as if to ground himself “My-”

“ _ Roman Nielson! _ ” A voice shouted, echoing through the empty theatre.

“Angela Rosin!” Roman exclaimed with a forced grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

A woman stalked toward them, her dirty blonde hair escaping from her messy bun at the violent movement.

“You know very well what,” she growled, finally approaching them. She got in Roman’s face. “What was that stunt last night?

Virgil shifted uncomfortable and focused on his feet. Unfortunately, that just drew the woman’s eyes toward him.

“And who is this? No audience members allowed in before the show!”

Virgil hunched in on himself.

“Angela, please, let me explain!”

Angela crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, staring Roman down.

“Last night,” he said nervously, “all three of my soulmates were in the audience.”

Angela’s eyes grew wide. She glanced between Roman and Virgil, as if she was only just noticing the matching hearts on their cheeks.

“One got scared and ran off, so I jumped off the stage to follow him with my other two soulmates. As you can see,” Roman threw an arm around Virgil’s shoulders, “everything ended up alright.”

Angela looked a lot less angry. “I guess I can give you a pass this time,” she said. “Just don’t let it happen again.” She turned to Virgil and held out her hand.”I’m Angela, as you’ve probably figured out.” 

Virgil smiled stiffly. “Virgil Anderson,” he replied, awkwardly shaking her hand. 

“Alright, Roman,” Angela said with a sigh. “Take your boyfriend and go get ready.”

Virgil blushed and Roman grinned, leading him backstage.

“It may be a bit late for the tour now,” he said sheepishly.

Virgil shrugged. “It’s alright. Next time.”

While the theatre itself had been astoundingly empty, backstage was a hectic mess, with actors and stage crew alike bustling around to get ready.

Time was a blur as Roman got himself ready, getting into costume and carefully styling his hair. He did makeup last, laughing as Virgil squirmed uncomfortably as the eyeliner appeared on his own face.

“It feels weird,” he whined.

Roman chuckled again. “What, like this?” He asked, and reached over to goose Virgil’s side.

Virgil gasped at the contact, launching out of his seat and mock-glaring at Roman. Roman just laughed some more.

Suddenly, something occurred to Virgil.

“What were you saying before Angela started yelling at you?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Roman said, suddenly seeming nervous. “My-”

“Roman!” A stagehand ran in. “Five minutes, Angela got your friend a front row seat.”

“Thanks, Josh,” Roman sighed. He turned to Virgil with a tired smile. “Better go find your seat.”

So Virgil watched Roman’s musical for the third and final time, enjoying it even more than the first two. This time, he refused to let soulmate anxiety get in the way of him enjoying the musical in full. A few hours later and the final show was over, actors taking bows for the last time in front of a standing ovation.

For the first time, Virgil stayed after the show, making his way to the lobby where the audience could meet the actors. He found Roman, who gave him a tired smile, and stood behind him, waiting for the night to be over.

Then, a tall, dark-haired, severe-looking man approached them. Virgil saw Roman’s shoulders go tense.

“Son,” the man said.

“Father,” Roman replied.

Oh.

“Impressive performance,” Roman’s father said, though his tone of voice suggested he thought otherwise.

“Thanks.” Roman replied, obviously trying to be respectful of his dad, but his voice was clipped.

The lobby was quickly emptying out, actors themselves beginning to head backstage. The lack of people should have made Virgil feel better, but it only made him more nervous.

“When do you think you’ll start doing something substantial with your life?”

“I-”

“And what’s that shit on your face?”

“It - it’s just-”

“Really, Roman. It’s about time you grew up. Threw out these frivolous fantasies of becoming an actor.” Roman’s father sneered.

“Dad, I-”

“I’m not paying for you to go to school to become some sort of prancing  _ fairy _ .”

“You didn’t pay for me to got to school at all,” Roman muttered.

His father loomed dangerously over him. “Excuse me?” He said slowly.

“You didn’t pay for my schooling.” Roman said, trying to sound strong but unable to hide the waver in his voice.”All of it came from scholarships, loans, or  _ my own pocket _ . You didn’t give me  _ shit _ .”

“Is that any way to speak to your father, young man?”

Virgil debated if he should step in to help Roman. Was it really his business? Plus, he only just met Roman…

No,  _ fuck _ that. He had known Roman his  _ whole life _ . They were  _ soulmates _ . He had every right to defend Roman against this man.

“Can you really call yourself his father after all the emotional and verbal abuse you’ve put him through?” Virgil asked calmly.

The man turned his glare to Virgil. “And who are you to decide that?”

“His soulmate,” Virgil snapped. “One of them, at least.

The man curled his lip in disgust. Before any words could be said from a Nielson, Virgil spoke again.

“I think you should leave.”

The man opened his mouth to argue. Roman cut him off.

“Virgil’s right. Get out. Don’t come back.”

“You can’t  _ do _ that,” the man growled.

“Oh yeah?” Roman asked. “Because I just did.”

And with that, Roman calmly walked backstage. Virgil followed, but not before flipping off his soulmate’s former father figure.

When they got backstage, it was already nearly empty. Roman collapsed and went limp in a chair near the makeup counters.

“You okay?” Virgil asked quietly.

“Shockingly?” Roman said. “I think I may be.” He let out a watery chuckle. “I know he’ll be back, but for now it feels good to be free from the toxic masculinity he’s been forcing on he all these years.”

Virgil gave him the best smile he could muster. Roman smiled back.

After Roman had washed off all the makeup and changed back into his own clothes, he offered his arm up to Virgil.

“Shall I walk you to your dorm?” He asked.

Virgil hesitated. “Are you sure? It’s late and cold. Plus it’s all the way across campus.”

Roman shrugged, “I don’t mind. Better than having to go to the after party after that confrontation.” He chuckled.

“Alright,” Virgil said with a shrug, but he didn’t take Roman’s offered arm. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about all the recent touching. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about his  _ soulmates _ .

They walked in relative silence, simple enjoying each other’s company. When they finally reached the honors dorm, Roman let out a chuckle.

“Y’know,” he said, “I’m not really surprised.”

Virgil smirked.

“Can I walk you to your room?”

Virgil shook his head. “Not tonight, Princey,” he teased. “It’s late, you need sleep.”

Roman smiled. “I hate that you’re right.

“Goodnight,” Virgil said, starting to make his way into the building.

“Goodnight, my dear,” Roman called back.

Virgil made his way to his room and got ready for bed, feeling like it had been a decent enough day and he didn’t need to analyze every little interaction.

He slept fitfully that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, this wasn't originally in the plan for the fic? And then Roman was like "wait I have a story to tell" and I'm like "what" and then this happened. Also, this definitely isn't my favorite chapter, but I hope you like it.  
> Scream at me in the comments or on tumblr, leave some constructive criticism, and I will see you all next time! Also, as this chapter is once again unbeta'd, please point out any mistakes you catch so that I can fix them!


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS!  
> -huge fight  
> -(breast) cancer mention  
> -parental death mention  
> -Logan exhibits abusive tendencies in the big fight  
> -Virgil exhibits abusive tendencies in the big fight  
> -PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF THERE IS SOMETHING I MISSED/SHOULD ADD FOR YOU, PLEASE!! THANK YOU!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, whoops? Lol. It’s kinda been like nearly three weeks now since I updated this fic? Thank you for being patient! It was part writer’s block, part personal life problems, but I’m glad to be getting the chapter out now!
> 
> That being said, I’m very nervous about this chapter. More nervous than I have been for any chapter before this (and trust me, you should’ve seen the mess I was before posting some of these lol), so please believe when I say things will end up okay in the end.
> 
> ALSO! I finally have blogs to tag for my BFF and beta lol, which is great cuz I love them and they deserve your love!  
> museofdemons is where they just reblog stuff  
> [shatteringangels](https://shatteringangels.tumblr.com) is their blog about the novel they’re writing, and it’s really cool so please check that out! They’re amazingly talented!!

Virgil woke up feeling unrested and immediately felt panic. What was wrong? He couldn’t figure out what was wrong! What -

Breathe. He needed to breathe. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight.

After a few more minutes, Virgil had calmed himself down and started sifting through the past few days, trying to find a trigger for the sudden panic.

It took him over twenty minutes of laying in bed and staring at the ceiling to find the issue. 

Reality had switched off. During the weekend, the reality switch flipped. Nothing felt real and he had been happy (well, relatively). There were no consequences. It almost felt like his past didn’t exist.

Monday, and reality had come back on. His skin itched from how much they’d touched him, yet he craved their touch once more. He wanted to see them every second of the day, yet he wanted to run away.  _ Far _ away.

This wasn’t right. Nothing was right. Everything felt  _ wrong _ and he didn’t know why or how to fix it. 

The issue wasn’t that he didn’t care for his soulmates. That was far from true. No, Virgil cared  _ too  _ much for his soulmates. He was making himself vulnerable. They probably didn’t care for him as much as he did them, if they cared at all. They were going to end up hurting him. Then he’d end up lashing out and hurting them back. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Maybe he should do what he had been planning to do since the beginning. Distance himself. Remove himself from the equation. It was better off this way. He couldn’t hurt anyone and they couldn’t hurt him.

So Virgil worked his best to distance himself, but it was  _ hard _ .

Roman would meet him outside the honors dorm and insist on walking him to class. Patton would beg and beg for them to meet for meals until Virgil relented and ate with them. Logan would somehow find him in the library (seriously, it was like the guy lived in there) and propose some group study sessions.

He  _ couldn’t _ escape.

After a month of this, Virgil finally managed to avoid them all for a week. He spent it mostly in his room, sneaking out at strange hours because they’d all figured out his schedule.

They texted. They called. They wrote on their skin.

Virgil ignored it all, tried to play it off like classes had picked up. He was just busy. That’s all it was. He was just busy.

He thought it was working.

Until Patton finally caught him outside the honors dorm on the way back from class.

“Hey, Virgil!” He chirped. “Working hard or hardly working?” He giggled.

“Uh, hey, Patton….”

“So! My grandma is coming in for dinner tonight again and I wanted you and everyone else to join us!”

“Oh, um, I dunno, Patton. I, uh, I’ve got a lot of homework and--” Virgil stammered out, but cut himself off.

Patton’s puppy eyes.  _ Anything _ but that.

“I-I guess I can take a break for tonight.”

“Great! Meet us in the west parking garage at five!”

Patton gave him a quick hug that left Virgil feeling very conflicted, then skipped off. 

Virgil sighed and walked into the dorm, planning to change into something more appropriate to meet a grandmother in. Ripped, black skinny jeans, a band t-shirt, and a torn up hoodie? Not gonna cut it this time.

* * *

Virgil jogged toward the parking garage. He was late. _ Again _ . He would do them a favor by disappearing.

Patton, Logan, and Roman were all standing around an old, beat up minivan that couldn’t have been from later than 2003.

“ _ This _ is your car?” Virgil asked hesitantly. He didn’t know if he trusted something that looked like  _ that _ .

Patton smiled, unoffended. “She’s more reliable than she looks. Hop in!”

So they piled in, Roman in shotgun and Logan and Virgil behind them. Virgil didn’t speak for the entire ride. Patton and Roman chattered the whole way. Logan said very little, but Virgil could feel the man staring at him for the duration of the ride.

They arrived at a small diner, about a 25 minute drive from the campus. It was small, obviously family-owned. Patton led them inside cheerily, walking in as if he was right at home. He greeted some of the staff by name, leading them to a large horseshoe booth right by the window. It had a beautiful view of the nearby park though the window.

And older woman was already sitting at the booth, and stood as they approached.

“Patton, sweetheart!” She said, pulling Patton into an embrace.

“Gram!” He hugged her back tightly.

“And these,” she said, turning to the rest of them with a large smile, “must be those lovely soulmates of yours.”

“Hello, Ms. Sanders, I am-” Roman started respectfully, but was cut off by Patton’s grandmother.

“No, don’t tell me. I want to guess.” She carefully inspected each of them.

“You,” she said, pointing to Logan, “are the smart one. Lo, I believe.”

“Yes,” Logan replied, adjusting his glasses. “I am Logan.”

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

She examined Roman and Virgil. Roman puffed out his chest. Virgil shrank in on himself.

“You’re the actor, Ro.” She said, gesturing to Roman.

Roman smiled. “Yes, ma’am, Roman”

“Which makes you the mysterious one,” she said, putting a gentle hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “V.”

“Uh, y-yeah. That’s me.:

Logan rolled his eyes. “Yes, he’s Virgil.”

Mrs. Sanders smiled and gestured for them to pile into the booth before her. “With my hips, it’s much too hard to scoot in there.” She explained, sitting on the end.

A waitress came around and took their orders. Virgil made certain to order the cheapest thing on the menu. Then, Mrs. Sanders laid her hands on the table and looked at them all.

“Let me lay down the law, here,” she said, making Virgil even  _ more _ nervous. “No more of this ‘Mrs. Sanders’ or ‘ma’am’ nonsense. You either call me Gram or Delilah.”

Logan and Roman both voiced their agreement. Virgil gave a small nod.

Logan shot another look in his direction. Virgil shifted uncomfortably. What was _ with _ him tonight?

They chatted about meaningless things for a few minutes, Patton looking anxious all the while. He seemed to tense up as he finally asked what was on his mind.

“So, Gram, how was the drive up here?”

Delilah rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Patton, you really worry too much. My feet my be numb, but I can drive and walk just fine!”

“Gram, it’s not _ safe _ !”

“Um,” Roman said, lifting a finger, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but why are your feet numb?”

Delilah gave a smile. Patton stared at the table and shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s a side effect of the chemo.”

The table went still, all staring at her in shock.

She didn’t  _ look _ sick.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, looking down and adjusting his glasses. “Did you say  _ chemo _ ?”

Her eyes softened. “Yes. I was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer a little over two years ago. Nearly died for a while there!” Delilah laughed, as if was no big deal.

Patton was completely still. In all the time Virgil had known him (which, granted, wasn’t long), he had never been still. He was always moving or bouncing or tapping. He had too much energy. Now, it was as if he was a statue.

Virgil had no clue what to do or how to react. Luckily, their meals arrived and cut through the tense moment. They moved on and didn’t acknowledge it again. 

The meal passed well enough, but Virgil could tell something was up with Logan. He kept glaring at Virgil out of the corner of his eye, rolling his eyes or making harmful quips whenever Virgil managed to speak. He seemed to snap a few times at Roman and Patton, but none of those were as fiery as the ones directed at Virgil.

By the end of dinner, everyone was tense and on edge. It was obvious that even Delilah had picked up on it and was uncomfortable, yet was too polite to butt into whatever was going on between all of them.

She insisted on paying the bill herself, despite everyone’s protests. It made Virgil even happier that he had ordered the cheapest meal.

She gave Patton a kiss on the cheek before waving them out, saying, “I think you boys have a few things you need to talk over.”

The car ride back to campus was tense. Quiet. Logan was glaring out the windshield. Patton’s knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. Roman was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Virgil was trembling in his own, dreading the upcoming confrontation.

What the  _ hell _ was going on?

They pulled into the west parking garage at 8:43 pm. Virgil’s throat closed up. That was the beginning of the end.

“Why don’t we head to my room?” Patton asked, though it was more of a command. “It’s probably the closest from here, and my roommate is out.”

Patton turned off the car and left them with no choice but to follow him. He led them in silence to Juniper Hall, one of the regular dorms on the opposite side of campus from Virgil’s. He went into the elevator, forcing Virgil to follow, the enclosed space drawing the breath out of his lungs quicker than he could get it in. Luckily, Patton only lived on the third floor.

He held the door open for them all to enter his room before slamming it behind himself.

“Mind telling me what that was?” He asked, voice low, glancing between Virgil and Logan.

“I didn’t do anything!” Virgil exclaimed, his voice higher pitched and louder than normal due to panic. An ingrained response ever since he entered the system.

“Oh you didn’t, did you?” Logan said, turning on him. 

Virgil flinched and took a step back. Logan followed, and Virgil did his best to stand his ground.

“No, actually, you’re right,” he said after a few moments. “I believe that’s an accurate description of your behavior.”

Virgil shot a look over to Patton and Roman, their faces blank. He looked back to Logan.

“W-what?”

“You see,  _ Virgil _ ,” Logan said, beginning to pace the room, hands clasped at the small of his back, standing ramrod straight. “All of us have been trying to put effort into this relationship, even if it’s out of our comfort zone, yet you don’t seem to be making the same effort. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been trying to avoid us, seeing as this is the first time we’ve seen you in a  _ week _ .”

Logan whipped around and quickly approached Virgil, causing him to trip over his own feet in an effort to back up. His back hit the wall, breath hitching. Logan advanced until he was inches from Virgil’s face.

“I - I -” Virgil tried to defend himself, but the words wouldn’t move past the lump in his throat. He was trembling violently.

Logan’s eyes were cold, hard, searching his own. The anger in them grew.

“Logan-” someone tried to speak up, but it sounded like it was miles away.

“I thought we were past this,” Logan growled. “I thought we were done with this dilemma. What is with you and running away?! And  _ STOP SHAKING! _ ”

He slammed his fist into the wall, right next to Virgil’s head.

Virgil flinched to the side and gasped.

Patton and Roman were yelling now, too. Virgil couldn’t hear the words over the blood pounding in his ears.

The switch in his brain went from flight to fight. Blood boiled in his veins. He shoved Logan away, ignoring the shock on his face.

Logan was staring at his fist, face white as a sheet.

“Oh no. No, no, no no nonono-” He whispered.

“Fuck you,” Virgil hissed, before the anger boiled over. He started shouting. “I have anxiety, jackass! You don’t just ‘get over’ it! I probably have a shit ton of other issues, too! My life as been shit, and I don’t need dicks like  _ you _ ,” he jabbed a finger at Logan, “making it worse!”

“Virgil, I’m-”

“No! You don’t get to talk! You’re done talking!

“Virgil, stop!” Roman grabbed Virgil’s arm.

He hadn’t even realized he’d started advancing on Logan, who still looked like he was going to be sick and staring at his hand. It was almost enough to shake him out of his blind anger.

Almost.

He wrenched his arm out of Roman’s grip. “And who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?”

“Virgil,” Patton’s voice was stern. “That is enough.”

“Fuck you!” Virgil yelled. “You’re siding with him?!” He flung out an arm to gesture at Logan.

“I’m not siding with anyone, I’m just--”

“Bullshit! You’re hiding behind other people’s opinions and a fake smile, just like usual! Why not be  _ real _ for  _ once _ in your life!”

Patton’s face was blank, his voice steely. “You want me to be real?”

Roman looked terrified, stuck in the middle of the three of them. “Guys, maybe we should just--”

“Shut up, Daddy’s Boy.” Virgil snarled.

Roman snapped his mouth shut. Clenched his jaw.

Patton moved slowly in front of Virgil. His face may have appeared calm, but his eyes were filled with rage. “I lost my moms when I was just a kid. My grandmother, my  _ sole caretaker _ , has stage four cancer. It’s a miracle she’s even  _ alive _ . Everything important is either taken from me or destroyed. I thought this would be the one good thing I could have. I guess I was wrong.”

It was like a slap in the face, like a bucket of cold water had been poured on his head. Virgil deflated.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.” He said. He turned and walked out the door.

This time, no one followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, that was a doozy. I am so, so sorry. (Also, I'm sorry it's so much shorter than usual! Writer's block is awful :/)
> 
> Fun fact: Delilah is loosely based off of my maternal grandmother (if she were a better person lol)
> 
> Come scream at me on tumblr at [sociallyawakward--fics](https://sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com). Please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed! It helps me to write faster!
> 
> Also, to anyone who nominated this fic for the Fander Fic Awards on tumblr: I cried and I love you.


	9. Chapter8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS (let me know if I miss any/you want me to add some):  
> \- depression  
> \- anxiety  
> \- talk of (breast) cancer  
> \- talk of hospitals/ICU  
> \- allusions/references to suicide  
> \- crying  
> \- apathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, oops?
> 
> It’s, uh, kinda been a month since an update? Sorry about that!! 
> 
> Also, this was not the original plan for this chapter. This is only HALF of the original plan for this chapter. It accidentally ended up way too long because Delilah was like, “hey, move, this is my show now.” And then she talked more than I expected her too, but I love her so much.
> 
> Also, this is the longest chapter so far, beating chapter 5 by around 130 words, so that’s why I had to split it in two lol. I wasn’t making you guys wait another (accidental) month and posting a 6K chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, come scream at me later!!

Months went by. They didn’t speak.

If Virgil saw one of them on campus, he immediately turned back the way he came. Not only was his phone once again eternally quiet, the bond was silent, too. Not even a stray pen mark had graced his fingers.

Virgil had thought he’d find the silence comforting, but it was  _ deafening _ . He couldn’t handle it for much longer. He stared at his blank skin in the mirror everyday, knowing that it was his fault it was clean.

Too depressed to live, too anxious to die. Would he ever get his peace?

He knew it was his fault. He knew, he  _ knew _ ,  _ he knew _ , but he was too stubborn to apologize on his own.

The approaching summer break was the only thing keeping him going. Sure, he would have nowhere to go and would probably end up on the streets (or, if he was lucky, a motel) for a few months, but just the idea that he had made it through his first year of college had him somewhat excited, if not stressed.

So he went about his routine and ignored how he missed his soulmates. School, work, eat, sleep, repeat. His body worked on autopilot as he tried to drown his emotions in his work.

Missing Patton’s bubbly laughter? Better start that math homework.

Missing Roman’s singing? He should really finish that essay on Gothic architecture.

Missing Logan’s random facts? He was pretty certain there was some physics homework he didn’t finish.

His work improved more and more, and his professors seemed extremely pleased about it. Virgil felt nothing. Not even anxiety over being individually recognized  among his hundreds of classmates. Everything just felt empty.

He threw himself into his job, putting all his focus into his work. His boss praised him, hinting at a promotion if he kept up the good work. Virgil felt nothing. Not anxiety over the idea of the new position, not joy at the fact he might get paid more. Everything just felt empty.

Before Virgil knew it, it was the Friday two weeks before finals. He had taken Saturday off work so that he could study, so he was hoping to get a lot of sleep that night. It was a perfectly normal, perfectly painful day.

What wasn’t so normal was the elderly woman standing outside his dorm, angrily inspecting anyone who entered.

She locked eyes with him.

_ Delilah _ .

She stormed up to him. “I’m not kidnapping you, but you’re going to pack an overnight bag and get in my car.”

“I - what?”

“Lead me to your room.”

And so he did. Delilah was a very commanding presence. There was no way in  _ hell _ he was saying no to her. 

Virgil led her inside, and even rode the elevator up to his floor, remembering her bad hips (she never said it, but he could tell by her limping gait) and numb feet. He let her into the room, shutting the door gently behind them.

“Now pack an overnight bag,” she said, voice much gentler than before but still leaving no room for argument. “Pajamas, clothes, toothbrush. You know what you need.”

He shoved everything he would need into a backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and turning to look at Delilah.

“Good. Now, we get in my car and drive to my house.”

She opened his door and stepped out, taking a few steps down the hall. When he didn’t follow, she came back in with a confused expression.

“Delilah-” he started quietly, but she cut him off.

“Virgil, dear, I know you’re scared to face them. They’re scared to face you, too, I’m sure. Truthfully, I could care less whether the four of you find happiness in each other, I just care that the four of you have happiness. And I know none of you will be able to do that if you don’t work through this.”

Virgil bit his lip and looked down. Could he really face them? After everything he said and did? And after everything they said and did to him? Especially Logan…

“Virgil.” Delilah placed her hand on his shoulder, making him raise his head to look at her. “Please, trust me with this. I _ promise _ it’ll be okay.”

After searching her eyes for a few moments, he shakily nodded. She smiled at him and they walked out to her car together.

She drove a van, too, but her’s was much newer than Patton’s and in much better condition than his. Inside, there were already two people. Virgil stopped in his tracks.

Roman and Logan sat next to each other in the backseat arms crossed and refusing to look at each other.

Before Virgil could panic, Delilah came up behind him and placed a comforting hand between his shoulder blades. “What did I just promise, Dear?”

“That-that it’ll be okay?”

“That’s right. Those boys will not lay a hand on you. Or a word, for that matter. And you won’t confront them, either.

Virgil took a few deep breaths, Delilah’s hand rubbing his back acting like a grounding force. By now, the two in the car had noticed him. He looked at the ground to avoid having to look at them.

“Whenever you’re ready, Dear,” Delilah said. “You’ve got the passenger seat.”

She moved to the van and slid behind the wheel. After a few more breaths, Virgil followed. He opened the passenger side door as quietly as he could, sliding in and hugging his backpack to his chest.

“Buckle up, boys. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

And a long drive it was.

Delilah seemed to live in the next town over, at least an hour and a half away if traffic was good.

It was a Friday afternoon. Traffic was not good.

The car was filled with a tense silence throughout the drive, only broken by Delilah leaning over to switch on the radio. She left it on a Christian station, but no one dared complain. After awhile, Virgil didn’t mind it so much, anyway. Some of the songs had a nice sound to them.

Two hours later, they finally reached the outskirts of Delilah’s town. Virgil heard Logan shift in the backseat, presumably to get a better view of the town out the window. 

Virgil himself stayed as still as he had the entire ride, looking out the windshield with heavy eyes. Road trips always made him sleep, but he refused to fall asleep in his present company. That was too much vulnerability.

Twenty uncomfortable minutes later, Delilah pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two-storey home, complete with a lush green lawn and garden. She got out of the car and started making her way up to the walkway, pausing when none of them followed her and turning to look at them.

“Well?” She called. “Grab your bags and let’s go!”

The three of them slowly got out of the car, throwing duffle bags and backpacks over their shoulders. Virgil kept as much distance as he could from the others as he quickly shuffled over to Delilah. She unlocked the door with steadier hands than Virgil would ever have and gestured them inside.

Patton laid on the couch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. It looked like he’d been crying recently, face red and splotchy. He was watching some sort of cartoon, staring so avidly at the TV that he didn’t even notice them enter.

Right as Virgil stepped over the threshold, the purple character on screen cried out, “ _ I never asked to be made! _ ” He had to stop himself from flinching. He could  _ hear _ the pain in their voice. Their pain was his own.

“Patton, Pumpkin?” Delilah asked gently, moving over to Patton’s prone form.

She plucked the remote from his limp fingers and paused the show. He finally looked up.

Patton furrowed his brow at the sight of the three of them. “Gram, what -”

Delilah cut him off (she seemed to have a habit of doing that). “It’s alright, Pumpkin. Sit up, now, make some room for our guests.” She hobbled off into the kitchen.

Patton slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, shoving his glasses up his nose as he eyes them warily.

“Hey,” Roman said quietly.

“Hey,” Patton replied just as softly. He shifted his blanket off the couch as an invitation to sit.

Roman cautiously stepped forward and sat on the couch cushion next to Patton’s. Logan slowly followed, sitting on the cushion next to Roman. 

There was one more cushion left before the armrest, but Virgil instead lowered himself into the armchair next to the couch, curling up defensively. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but he kept his own carefully trained on the coffee table.

Delilah reentered the room carrying a chair from the dining table and placing it on the other side of the coffee table, facing the couch.

“Who  _ else _ is coming,” Patton grumbled, shrinking in on himself slightly.

“Quit your whining,” Delilah said. “It took forever to get this together.”

“Get  _ what _ together?”

“You’ll see,” she said with a sly smile.

Patton flopped back against the arm rest and crossed his arms. “Maybe I don’t  _ wanna _ see,” he grumbled under his breath, barely loud enough for Virgil to hear.

Delilah simply shook her head, making her way back into the kitchen. Virgil could hear the clinking of ceramic and the stove lighting.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long to see what the surprise was.

The front door unlocked and opened just wide enough for two hands to pop in. They began dancing around in time as the person behind the door started singing.

“Daa! Da la da da da da da da daa-”

No one moved. They all simply stared at the door with varying expressions of confusion or annoyance.

_ Is - is that Spongebob?? _ Virgil thought as he squinted at the door, flinching back when a leg kicked through.

The person kept singing, but finally stuck their head and torso through the door. They wore glasses and a slightly oversized cardigan. They reminded him a  _ lot _ of Patton. 

The person stepped inside as they held the last note.

“Thomas?” Patton asked, his voice still hoarse.

“Not today!” Thomas exclaimed, walking into the room. “Today I’m Doctor Picani!”

“Thomas.” Patton said again, this time more forcefully.

Thomas sighed and removed the glasses, Virgil finally realizing they were fake. “Alright, alright.” He turned his attention away from Patton and towards the rest of them. “Hey guys! I’m Patton’s cousin, Thomas. Nice to meet you!”

No one moved or spoke. Thomas’s grin didn’t falter.

“Sorry about the crazy outfit, I was just filming before I got here.”

Patton sighed. “Thomas, why are you here?”

Virgil shifted uncomfortably. He felt like he had some sort of idea.

Thomas was unphased. “What, too good for your favorite cousin, now?” He joked.

Why did Virgil even come? He could be studying in his quiet dorm right now.

Patton simply stared at Thomas.

Thomas raised his hands in surrender. The good-natured grin still hadn’t left his face. “Okay, I’m here to mediate a discussion between you four.”

Virgil tensed up, every instinct telling him to run. Sure, he knew Delilah was making them talk, but he didn’t know that a stranger was getting involved.

“And that entrance?” Logan asked degradingly.

Once again, Thomas was unphased. “Oh, that’s just what this character does when entering therapy sessions with his patients.” Thomas gestured to his costume.

Virgil’s blood ran cold at the word “therapy.”

“Plus,” Thomas continued, “maybe staying in character will help you guys!”

“If you psychoanalyze me I will-” Virgil started to snap, but cut himself off. His outburst seemed to have surprised everyone, but most of all himself. “Sorry,” he muttered, shrinking down in the chair. He didn’t look up, not wanting to see the glares that were probably being directed at him.

“Okay,” Thomas said warily. “Then we’ll put the Picani persona away. I’ll just make sure no fights break out. No therapist.”

Virgil shrunk in on himself even more, if possible.

He heard Thomas settle himself in the chair across from the couch.

“Virgil, right?” Thomas asked.

He didn’t respond.

“Do you wanna join the others on the couch?”

Virgil didn’t move.

“Alright, then… Do you want to go first, then? Share a bit about yourself?”

Virgil took a shuddering breath. “I’m fucked up, the end.” He kept his gaze on his knees.

There was silence for a few moments. Virgil could hear his soulmates shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

“Do you mind elaborating?” Thomas tried.

“I’m a fucked up person and you should stay far away from me, the end.”

Delilah’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere of the room like butter. “Thomas, sweetheart, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Virgil for a second. I need his help in the kitchen.”

Virgil practically ran to the kitchen, incredibly grateful for the escape.

Behind him, he heard Roman hesitantly ask about Thomas’s filming project. He blocked them out.

“Dear, can you reach up in the cabinet there and grab those teacups?” Delilah asked, pointing to a high shelf in her china cabinet. “The flowery ones?”

“Aren’t they just decorative, though?” Virgil asked quietly, but began pulling down the cups anyway.

“They were my mother’s, actually,” Delilah said with a wistful smile. “We used to use them all the time. Nowadays, though, I don’t get much chance to.”

“They’re beautiful,” Virgil said, setting the cups down gently by where Delilah stood by the sink.

The cups all had beautiful paintings of flowers on them, pastel and slightly splotchy in a way that reminded Virgil of watercolor. The rims were golden and still shone brightly despite the covering of dust. 

They made Virgil want to pick up watercolor painting again, though he abandoned it years ago when one of the families he was staying with threw out his set.

“Help me rinse them?” Delilah asked.

He could never say no to her. He had only met the woman twice, had probably only known her a few hours added up, but he would already do anything for her.

Without a word, he grabbed a clean dish rag and went to stand beside her.

“You dry,” she said, as if he wasn’t already planning to do that

They washed the first two cups in silence, the only sounds being the running water and the quiet chattering in the other room. Delilah started speaking as he grabbed the saucer for the second cup.

“You know,” she said, “I think we have a lot in common, you and I.”

Virgil didn’t respond, but gave a glance in her direction to show he was listening.

“We’re both stubborn mules sometimes.” She chuckled. “We don’t want anyone’s help, we feel like we have to fix every problem on our own. And if we can’t fix it? We ignore it and we hope it goes away.”

Virgil listened in confused silence, wondering why she was telling him this. He wasn’t able to follow her train of thought at all and it was making him nervous.

“I almost died,” Delilah continued. “About two years ago when we first found out I had breast cancer.”

Virgil fumbled and almost dropped the saucer he was drying. “Delilah-”

She held up her hand to stop him and chuckled again, shaking her head. “I hadn’t been to the doctor in years, always too stubborn to go whenever I felt ill. I would wait it out, sure I could handle it, and things always eventually got better. This time, though, they weren’t. I kept getting worse and worse, and because of that I got myself a cozy little bed in the ICU.”

Virgil was too in shock to keep drying, the dish rag hanging limply from his fingers. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stare in shock. Delilah smiled at him and put a damp hand on his cheek, carefully taking the rag from his fingers.

“I had a bladder infection and that hemoglobin stuff in my blood was so low that it was a miracle I wasn’t already dead. I was  _ on _ my deathbed in that hospital. And imagine, on top of all of this, they found that I had stage four breast cancer.

Delilah handed him a few cups to carry and directed him to the table. She brought over the last few along with a teapot. He shakily sat down.

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Hush, Dear,” Delilah said, “I’m going to make a point with this. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the ICU. It was so bad that they even tried to convince my son to sign a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ order, though, of course, he refused. All the doctors were certain I wasn’t going to make it. God truly gave us a miracle. Despite the fact that I’m practically cancer free, now, doctors still look at my medical history and assume I’m on my deathbed.”

Delilah poured some tea into the cup decorated with delicate purple flowers and handed it to him.

“It’ll help calm your nerves, hopefully,” she said, and poured her own tea into the teacup with pink flowers.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, holding the cup in both hands in an attempt to warm them.

“Now,” Delilah said, sitting in the chair next to his, “the point, or, I supposed,  _ points _ , I’m trying to make are one, sharing some backstory, even if it’s bad, doesn’t have to be scary. Good people won’t judge, and if they do, they’re not worth your time.

“Two, being stubborn and refusing outside help only hurts me. I mean, look at me, I nearly  _ died _ . I’m not saying that you should go to therapy or get medication, nothing of the sort. That’s entirely your choice and you should do it when you feel you’re ready. And if you’re never ready or you don’t want to, that’s alright too. Just don’t be too stubborn or too afraid to reach out for help when you need it. It nearly killed me, I don’t want it to kill you.”

Virgil opened his mouth to protest, but she didn’t let him get a word in edgewise.

“Don’t give me any of that. I can see it in your eyes. Virgil, Dear, you have  _ so _ much to live for. You’re young, handsome, smart; your life is so rich. I know you’re hurting, but if you ever feel like giving up,  _ please _ don’t. Please reach out to someone. Me, or one of our boys in there,  _ someone _ . I can’t lose another child.”

Virgil was tempted to say that he wasn’t hers, but there was another story he wanted to hear first. “Another?” he asked.

Delilah smiled sadly. “That’s Patton’s story to tell, I’m afraid, but don’t worry about me. I’ve still got my son and all the family I gained through him, Patton, and, by extension, you boys. My life is full of joy thanks to all of you.”

“But,” Virgil started hesitantly, “you barely even know me.”

Delilah smirked at him over the top of her teacup. “It’s too late, you’re already adopted.”

Virgil tried to smile at the playful teasing, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes welled up at those words.

He smiled softened. “Besides,” she said, laying a hand over one of his, “I know more than enough. You’re family, now.”

A few tears slipped out and Virgil ducked his head, not wanting her to notice. He should’ve known that nothing got past her. 

Delilah put her hand under his chin and lifted his head. He tried to hide the wobble of his lips, the wetness of his eyes, tried to stop the tears from falling.

“Welcome home, Virgil,” she whispered.

He broke.

Tears fell quietly and he shut his eyes against them, leaning into Delilah’s touch.

She shifted her hand to his jaw and added her other hand to mirror the action on the other side of his face, pulling his face towards hers and pressing a kiss onto his forehead. She let her lips linger there for a few moments before pulling him close into an embrace, guiding his head to rest on her shoulder.

His cried grew a bit louder and he tried to stifle them in her sweater. She rocked them gently back and forth, humming softly.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to get out around the tears.

She shushed him. “Nothing to be sorry for, Dear. Nothing at all. There’s no shame in feeling, and I never want you to think that there is.”

Whatever remains were left of the wall he had built up collapsed and he wailed into Delilah’s shoulder, his cries consuming him.

He sobbed without abandon, but for once, that felt okay. Delilah’s arms were warm and comforting around him. Her sweater was soft and smelled of a flowery detergent. This was what family should be.

This was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I promise the boys will talk in the next chapter but, like I said earlier, this chapter just got too long and I had to cut it in half! (That's never happened before at this scale and it's kind of exciting, I used to be terrible at writing things long enough but now I'm having to cut chapters in half lol)
> 
> Some scream at me on tumblr!! [sociallyawkward--fics](https://sociallyawkard--fics.tumblr.com)
> 
> Edit: Thank you everyone who pointed out to me that I accidentally posted the chapters in the wrong order! I'm clumsy and sleep deprived lol. It should be fixed now!


	10. AUTHOR'S NOTE, NOT A CHAPTER (pt2)

Okay guys, first things first I'm just going to copy/paste the entire post from my tumblr page, and then I'll say a little bit more at the end. Sound good? Great:

* * *

 

So, I don’t think there’s anyone following this account that doesn’t know about my baby and love, [When Words Fail](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F12849006%2Fchapters%2F29341518&t=ZTE5NGM3ZTg5ZjkxMTZhODU1MTllYzAwMjg4OGM5ODIxY2ZiMGViOCxaOHB5OE52VA%3D%3D&b=t%3Af6Pd4kXB1cYxBU_DkZMJxw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173459150202%2Fan-update-on-when-words-fail-progress&m=0), and many of you know that I have not updated since the beginning of February.  **There are a few reasons:**

\- Because of my worsening depression, I found it harder and harder to find inspiration for the fic, even with all of your lovely comments and asks and overwhelming support.

\- Linked with my depression, my grades dropped so low that I almost didn’t have a chance to graduate with my class, and I’m not quite out of the dog house yet, as I’m still barely passing. Due to having to put nearly all my focus on school, I haven’t had a chance to finish the Big Emotional Chapter we’re all waiting for.

\- I have started and restarted this chapter so many times, and I just can’t find a way that fits. A way that I like. I’m increasingly worried that I lost the feel and tone of my own fic, and that the chapter I keep trying to write won’t fit in with the rest.

\- Every time I go back to read WWF to help me with the chapter, I’m too busy cringing at my own writing and focusing on all the places I made mistakes that I can’t focus on the plot to help me bring things together.

**So here is what I am planning to do:**

\- Tomorrow and tonight, I will dedicate as much of my time as I can to working on this chapter. I really want it done, both for me and for you.

\- There are some folks who read WWF who don’t follow me here on tumblr, so I am going to go in and make a chapter that is an author’s note with this exact information. Please do not be upset when you see there’s an update and it’s only a hiatus update.

\- The next chapter of When Words Fail… will be the last. PLEASE! Do not freak out. The story will NOT end there, I promise. The boys still have a lot of story to tell. I just need a slight break before I work on the sequel. There  _will_  be a sequel though, all about the boys learning to come together as one.

-  Maybe before the sequel comes out, I’ll do a few one shots in the verse with the POV of the other sides. Who knows? I haven’t decided yet. Bear with me while I figure this out lol, I’m more of the “fly by the seat of my pants” writer. I’m a gardener, not an architect.

 **Thank you**  for sticking through this with me. Thank you for still being exciting about and interested in my fic. This fanfic has practically become my baby. It’s going to be the second chaptered fic I have ever finished (and in a lot less time than the first one lol, [When You Wish Upon a Star](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F7689649%2Fchapters%2F17517568&t=Yzc5MzZiNThjMTc4MWI5Y2Q3YTgwNTUzNTBiMDdiNWU3NzU4MGJjYyxaOHB5OE52VA%3D%3D&b=t%3Af6Pd4kXB1cYxBU_DkZMJxw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173459150202%2Fan-update-on-when-words-fail-progress&m=0) took me over a year to write). As much as I cringe when I go back and read it, I’m proud of it. It’s not the best writing, but it’s great practice and I can’t wait to see how I improve from here. Thanks for reading, and see you soon with that next chapter.

* * *

 

So, I will try to have that next chapter out for you guys as soon as I possibly can. Before I post that chapter, I will delete both the author's note that's me panicking about Net Neutrality as well as this one, that way the fic can be read in one clean post.

I'm also debating going through and making a few edits to the chapters. Just places where I would fix punctuation or wording, nothing where I change a great deal of the fic. Let me know if you think I should do that! Thanks for sticking by me, and I hope to have a chapter for you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> What a doozy. If you wanna scream at me, feel free to in the comments (I try to always reply because I'm so thankful to those of you who choose to comment) or on my tumblr, [sociallyawkward--fics](https://sociallyawkward--fics.tumblr.com/)! (Let me know if that link doesn't work, I've had trouble in the past) (Also please give me constructive criticism, it's been so long since I've written/posted and this is my first time writing for these characters/this fandom)


End file.
